


If You Get Lost, You Can Always Be Found

by WinJennster



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 9.03 mention, April Kelly mention, Awesome Charlie, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean, Canon Compliant, Castiel in the Bunker, Charlie Ships It, Dean/Cas Pinefest 2017, Domestic Dean Winchester, Frottage, I hate tagging, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Mutual Pining, Pining, Road Trips, gadreel!sam, i don't break the car for once, severe abuse of enochian, so much pining, sort of, still hate tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 13:41:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10023173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinJennster/pseuds/WinJennster
Summary: Days afterI’m No Angel, Castiel finds himself exiled from the safety of the bunker. The money Dean gives him runs out all too soon. Luck, or perhaps divine providence, lands him on the Amish farm of Jacob and Lydia Bieler. The Bielers take Cas in. Despite the Amish’s general distrust of outsiders -Englischers- the strange man who can understand their language and isn’t afraid of hard work seems a natural fit amongst them. Castiel thinks he might just go ahead and stay - the farm seems like a good place to heal his broken heart, and maybe forget who broke it.Meanwhile, Dean finds himself so wracked with guilt, he can’t stand to see his own face in the mirror. He doesn't know what's worse; the fact that he threw Cas away or that Sam’s unwillingly - and unwittingly - possessed by an angel. Charlie comes for a visit and decides to stay, and it takes her no time at all to call Dean on his bullshit. With her help and encouragement and a plan to deal with the angel in Sam later, Dean and Charlie set out to find Cas and bring him home. But when they find him, Dean’s surprised that Cas doesn’t want to come home, leaving Dean to face some difficult truths about himself - and how he feels about Castiel.





	1. Look Like Nothin's Gonna Come My Way

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is after all these long months of waiting - pining, you might say. I've been dying to post this, but I waited like a good girl. I think the wait did me a lot of good. What you see here is one of my most polished pieces, because I've had months to poke at it. 
> 
> I hope you love it as much as I do. 
> 
> Thanks to the beta crew - TrekChik, Livinginthequestion, Mittensmorgul, Metatronthetransfromer, and Powerweak. Huge thanks to my incredible artist, Delicious-Irony. (I'll be adding the art later. Please check back to see it, or look for the post on the DeanCasPinefest tumblr.)
> 
> Anyway, I do hope you enjoy. Translations can be found at the end of every chapter. 
> 
> <3 Jenn

_You can’t stay._

Those words echoed painfully through Castiel’s stupidly human brain.

_You can’t stay._

The look on Dean’s face - like he wanted to say anything but those horrible words.

_You can’t stay._

Cas turned his head towards the window of the smelly Greyhound Bus, watching as the countryside whizzed by, eyes following rain droplets as they trailed down the glass.

_You can’t stay. I’m sorry, Cas. It’s dangerous. Sam isn’t well yet and Bartholomew and his angels are looking for you._

There’d been a little hitch in Dean’s voice, almost like he was trying to convince himself of the truth of his words. Like he didn’t believe what he was saying.

It wouldn’t have been the first time Dean lied to him.

Dean left him at a bus station in Salina with a credit card and $200, so Cas bought a ticket for the first bus out. Yawning, Cas rubbed at tired eyes and leaned his seat back. He didn’t know where he was going and he didn’t care. He was just going.

* * *

 

The day after he cruelly tossed Cas from the bunker, Dean didn’t get out of bed. He didn’t sleep, but he didn’t get up. Dean stared at the wall. Rolled over and stared at the ceiling. Rolled again and stared at the other wall. His eyes burned from the insomnia. He tried to tell himself it was the only reason they burned. He sat on the floor and leaned against his bed, playing every sad song he owned on the record player while hiding his face in a pillow.

Sam knocked on the door at some point. “Dean, you ok?” he asked through the door, raising his voice over Otis Redding’s.

“Headache,” Dean muttered back, voice muffled by the pillow. “Go ‘way.”

He could feel Sam’s bitch face through the door - or worse, his worried and concerned _we-should-talk-Dean_ face. “Let me know if you need anything,” Sam said finally.

Dean didn’t respond. He climbed back into bed and rolled onto his belly, burying his face in the pillow, squeezing his eyes closed tightly, wishing that Cas’s face would fade from his memory.

“Stupid,” he chastised himself. “He had to go. Did the right thing.” Dean flopped onto his back again as a tiny, insistent voice asked _then why does it hurt so bad? Why do you feel so fucking guilty?_

Frustrated, he tossed the bed clothes to the side as he sat up, reaching for his phone to check the time. It was well after two, and he’d spent the entire day lying around. Standing, he stalked around the room, shutting off the turntable, gathering boxers, clean jeans, and a clean shirt. The hall was empty as he walked to the bathroom. Dean started a shower on autopilot, not totally surprised to find himself in the kitchen sometime after with no real idea how he got there.

“Hey. I just started another pot of coffee, you want some?” Sam asked pleasantly, setting Dean’s favorite mug on the table.

“Yeah, sure.”

Sam busied himself making the drinks. When both mugs were full, he settled at the table across from Dean. He fussed with his own mug for a moment before opening his mouth. “Dean -”

“No, don’t. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Huffing a sigh, Sam shook his head. “If you’re this upset about him being gone, why did you ask him to leave in the first place? He could’ve stayed. He’d’ve been safe here.”

“Yeah, but you wouldn’t have.”

“Dean, I feel fine! Why do we have to keep going over this? I’m fine.”

“Yeah, well maybe you’re not.” Dean stared down at his coffee cup. “Maybe you’re just not there yet.”

“What does that even mean? I don’t under-” Sam voice cut off and Dean flinched. “You did the right thing,” Ezekiel murmured, sitting up and straightening Sam’s back. “I know Sam doesn’t understand but you did the right thing.”

“Did I really? I sent an innocent man out into the world with zero defenses. Sam’s right, we could’ve kept him here, where it’s safe.”

“And I told you - nowhere is safe against an incursion should Bartholomew decide to attack this place. I should think Sam’s safety would come first.”

“You fucking bastard,” Dean muttered. “You’re playing me - making me choose one over the other.” He stood and crossed the floor, setting his mug down in the sink. “Just get the job done. Get it done so I can go get Cas, because - because -” Dean couldn’t get the words to form. “Just get it done,” he said again.

“-stand. This is the safest place I know of and -”

“Just let it go, Sam. Ok?”

“But it doesn’t make any sense! If this Bartholomew is really building an army, then we should be protecting Cas not pushing him away!”

“Drop it, Sam!” Dean barked.

Huffing, Sam pulled the bitchiest of bitchfaces. “You are so ridiculous,” he groused. Sam shoved back from the table and left the kitchen, leaving Dean to stare into space.

* * *

 

Days he’d spent on the road, watching his meager supply of money dwindle and doing everything in his power not to think of Dean, or the cruel words that had tumbled from his lips. After two weeks, he no longer had the money for bus tickets. The credit card Dean had given him had no more funds on it either. Cas walked along a highway, thumb out, but in his scruffy, disheveled state, no one stopped for him.

Not that he could blame them.

Castiel had no idea how long he walked, or how far, but the strap of the duffel Dean had given him made his shoulder ache. His feet hurt enough to make him want to cry, and he sniffled, rubbing at his nose with his dirty sleeve. It was getting cold. He knew he needed to find shelter, and soon.

A rest stop glowed in the distance. Maybe he could curl up in one of the stalls and sleep for a short time, but to his great dismay, the rest stop was closed when he got there, only open for trucks to park for a night.

Trying everything he could not to have a massive breakdown right there in the middle of the parking lot, Cas caught sight of a truck carrying a load of baled hay, parked well out of the way of any streetlights. He could climb up and nestle down in the hay at least. Double checking to make sure no one was around, Cas quickly clambered up the side of the load, pleased to find a space just large enough for him to hunker down. Cut off from the wind, he found himself quite warm and comfortable, and in his utterly exhausted state, he quickly dropped into a deep sleep.

In the morning, the shouts of several deep voices roused him and he startled awake, sitting up in the middle of the small nest he’d made. Open fields rolled in gentle hills and the smell of farming assaulted his nose.

“Well now, what do we have here? Owen, you’ve brought me a straggler!” A man with an impressive beard and straw hat peered down at Cas. “Got a name, son?”

“Uh - Steve,” Cas murmured, giving the name on the credit card Dean had given him. “Where - where am I?”

“Rushford, New York.”

“New York? How -”

Another man climbed up the stack of hay and glared down at Cas from under a Mac Trucks hat. “What the hell you doin’ on my load?”

“I was cold - I just needed somewhere to sleep. I’m sorry. I meant to get off before you left the rest stop. I must’ve been more tired than I thought.” He pulled his duffle close to his chest. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to -”

“The rest stop? Son, that was about two hundred miles ago. You ‘spect me to believe you been asleep this whole time?”

“Now, Owen, no need to be hostile. Man looks hungry. Let Lydia get a meal in him and then we’ll figure out how he got on the truck.”

“I dunno, Jacob. You Amish are too damn trusting, you know that?”

“Love thy neighbor, Owen. He’s hungry.” Jacob turned back to Castiel. “You are hungry, aren’t you?”

“I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning,” Cas whispered, face burning with shame.

“Alright then, c’mon down and let's get you to my wife. She’ll have something to put in your belly.”

Castiel took the hand Jacob offered him, letting the man pull him from the hay. “You’re very kind. There aren’t enough kind people in this world.”

“Just don’t be abusin’ his kindness,” Owen spat, “Or -”

“Enough, Owen,” Jacob said gently, helping Cas down the side of the truck. “Just finish getting this unloaded and see Aaron, he’ll settle with you. Come, Steve.”

Cas shouldered his bag, wincing at the sharp pain that traveled up his arm. “Thank you for the ride,” he said quietly to Owen.

Owen huffed and turned back to the truck as Castiel followed Jacob up a hill and into a sprawling farmhouse. “Lyddie, I’ve got a fellow that needs a meal.”

“Alright, well I’ve just about got lunch ready. Pull up an extra chair.” She smiled at Castiel. “Lydia Beiler.”

“Steve - Steve Winchester,” Cas said, supplying the first surname that came to mind.

“Nice to meet you,” she smiled. She pointed around the corner. “You can wash up in there, if you’d like. I’ll take your bag.” She held her hand out for it.

Cas’s grip on the bag tightened for a moment, but looking into Lydia’s kind brown eyes, he realized she truly meant him no harm and handed over the duffle.

“G’on, go wash up.”

Castiel nodded and followed her directions to a small washroom. He stared at himself in the little mirror over the sink and frowned. Deep purple circles rimmed the underside of both eyes, and his face was dark with the scruff lining his jaw. He looked awful, and in Jacob’s place, Cas didn’t think he’d have shown such kindness. Owen was right to be distrustful.

Cas leaned over the sink, bracing himself on the porcelain with his elbows locked and rigid. A hysterical feeling welled up inside him and he was struck with the sudden urge to cry. A fierce longing for the bunker and it’s occupants left him feeling nearly breathless, and he swiped at his wet eyes with his left hand.

“Steve?” A soft tap at the door. “Are you alright?” Lydia asked quietly.

“Yes,” he muttered. “I’m sorry.”

“Lunch is ready.”

“Thank you.” Cas washed his hands and splashed some water on his face. He wished he had time to clean himself up a bit more, maybe change his clothes, but he didn’t want to be rude and keep his hosts waiting any longer.

Opening the door of the small bath, the delicious aroma of food threatened to knock him off his feet. “It smells wonderful,” Cas told Lydia as he walked back into the kitchen.

“Thank you. There’s plenty, so please, eat all you want.” She motioned to a chair on the side of the long table, and Cas’s eyes took in the spread.

A tray of cold cuts, bowls of potato salad and coleslaw, pickles, sliced bread, steaming cups of coffee, condiments, and what looked like homemade potato chips lined the long board table. Two pies sat on one end, and Cas couldn’t help but think about Dean and his love of pie. He smiled sadly at the pecan, Dean’s favorite.

“Please, Steve, sit. Eat,” Lydia urged.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Jacob?” he asked, obediently taking his seat.

“I’m here,” Jacob announced. Another man came in with him and sat across from Cas. “This is Aaron Lapp. He’s my hired hand.”

“Nice to meet you,” Cas said.

“ _Yah_ ,” Aaron answered.

Jacob sat at the head of the table and closed his eyes in silent prayer. Lydia and Aaron followed. Cas looked down at his plate, wondering what he would say to his father if he stood before him in that moment.

A grunt from Jacob signified the end of prayer, and food was passed around. Castiel built himself a thick sandwich of cheese, ham, lettuce, tomato, onion, and mustard. He spooned potato salad and coleslaw onto his plate, helped himself to the chips and the pickles, and turned bright red when he moaned around the taste of homemade bread.

“It’s good,” he told Lydia.

“I’m glad.” There was quite the twinkle in her eyes.

“Try the hot pepper chow chow,” Jacob urged, passing Cas a small glass jar. “It’s my favorite. _Gut_ on everything!”

Lydia smiled indulgently at her husband while Cas spread some of the chunky sauce on his sandwich. The condiment was quite spicy but complimented the sweet ham perfectly. He couldn’t help but think that Dean would enjoy it. “It’s delicious,” he told Jacob, and the man beamed his approval of Cas’s words.

Castiel ate the rest of his meal in silence, observing his hosts. Aaron appeared to be in his late thirties, and clearly unmarried judging by the lack of beard. Jacob was grey all over. Grey hair, grey beard, with deep crow's feet around his eyes that suggested a lifetime of laughing and smiling. He and Lydia both appeared to be in their sixties, although Lydia retained quite a bit of blond in her grey streaked hair.

“It’s delicious, _Fraa_ ,” Jacob told her, eyes full of love. “I married the best cook in Alleghany County,” Jacob explained to Cas. He patted his round belly. “And I’ve benefitted mightily.”

“As have I,” Aaron added, laughing.

“It is delicious. I haven’t had a full meal in days.” Cas looked down at his empty plate. “I appreciate the kindness.”

Lydia cut the pies into slices, putting one each of the pecan and apple on Cas’s plate. “You haven’t even had the pie yet,” she smiled.

The group munched on the pie, Aaron and Jacob grunting and burping. Castiel ate his pie slowly, appreciatively. He was approaching comfortably full, and sighed happily around a bite of apple.

“So where are you headin’, Steve?” Jacob asked.

“I um - I don’t know. I don’t really have anywhere to go,” Cas admitted, staring down at his plate.

“Well, if you ain’t afraid of hard work, you can stay here for a bit.”

“Are you sure? I don’t believe your friend Owen would appreciate that.”

“Not Owen’s business what I do on my own farm.”

“Alright, then. I’ll stay, if you truly don’t mind.”

“We don’t.” Lydia assured him with a sweet smile.

Cas ate the rest of his pie contentedly, warmed by the Bielers' kindness.

* * *

 

Charlie showed up at the bunker about two weeks after Cas left, and an adventure happened involving a wicked witch and Dorothy - yes, _that_ Dorothy.

When it was over, Dorothy invited Charlie to join her in Oz. Dean stared down at the floor as Dorothy opened the portal, his heart aching. He’d just lost Cas and now he was about to watch another friend walk away from him.

“Thanks for the offer,” he heard Charlie say, “but I think I’m going to stay put for now.”

Dean looked up in surprise just in time to see Dorothy nod and pat Charlie’s shoulder. “If you ever change your mind, Red -”

“Gotcha,” Charlie smiled.

Kissing Charlie softly on the cheek, Dorothy waved jauntily before turning to walk through the door.

“What was that all about?” Dean asked Charlie, confused.

“I dunno. I want adventure, yeah, but I just feel like,” she looped an arm through Dean’s and smiled up at Sam. “I feel like I’m needed here. What do you guys think about me staying for a while?”

“I think we’d love it,” Sam smiled back at her. “We’ve got plenty of extra room. Hell, Dean, show her a room and I’ll go get pizza.”

“Yeah, uh - ok.” Dean mumbled. “Make sure you get Kevin vegetarian. He’ll be back from Branson tonight.”

“He’s not the only one who likes vegetarian,” Sam complained.

“Ew,” Dean and Charlie retorted in unison.

Sam rolled his eyes as he pulled the Impala’s door open. Charlie and Dean left the garage and walked back down the hall, stopping in the laundry room to get clean sheets.

“So what’s your deal?”

“Huh?”

“What’s your deal?” Charlie narrowed her eyes at Dean. “You’re mopey. More than usual.”

“M’fine.” Dean tossed her a set of white sheets.

“No you’re not.”

“Oh, ok. Fine. Tell me how you can tell, then.”

“You’re phoning it in, dude. Like - you’re here, physically, but not mentally. And where the hell is Cas? Shouldn’t he be here, since he’s all human and stuff now?”

Dean opened the door to a room and waved Charlie inside, tossing her a pillow and the pillowcase. “Cas is Cas - off doing his thing.”

Charlie slid the pillow into the case. “I would have thought you wouldn’t want to let him out of your sight.”

“It’s complicated. And I’m fine, by the way. Not moping.” Dean tugged the fitted sheet over the bottom corner of Charlie’s mattress. “He’s not here. He’s got his own thing and he’s not here.” Dean finished making the bed and stood up straight. Charlie was glaring at him, hands on her hips. “What?”

“You mean to tell me you let that helpless, defenseless, newly human -”

“Charlie, he’s not defenseless. He’s got a gun and his angel blade and -”

“He’s like a baby bird and you kicked him out of the nest! I expected better from you, Dean Winchester!”

“He’s also being hunted by angels and Sam is still not 100% and if a bunch of angels get in here -”

“There are some things, some people, worth dying for. You taught me that. Plus, it seems like your Men of Letters crew designed this place to be pretty impenetrable. Like a Death Star without a fatal flaw.”

“But Sam -”

Charlie narrowed her eyes again. “Sam is an excuse. What’s really going on here, Dean?”

Dean turned away from her, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s complicated. Really fucking complicated.”

“Well, uncomplicate it and explain it to me.”

“I can’t.”

She sighed. “This isn’t like you.”

“It’s not?” Dean whirled on her. “Don’t I always choose Sam? Huh? Don’t I always make Sam first in my life? Damn the consequences and who cares who the fuck gets hurt as long as Sam comes first.” Dean shook his head. “Lived my whole life on that party line, why the fuck should I stop now?”

“Dean -”

“No. I’m going to bed. You can stay as long as like, hell, stay forever.” He stalked out of her room and down the hall to his own, slamming the door behind him. Dean tossed himself on his bed. Sometime later, he heard his brother’s distinctive footsteps outside his door.

“Dean? You ok?” Sam’s voice was hesitant, tentative.

“I’m fine. Get some rest, alright?”

“Uh - there’s pizza. Aren’t you hungry?”

“No. I’m tired. Good night,” Dean said, even as his growling stomach made a liar of him.

“Ok. Um. Good night, then.”

Dean flopped onto his back as Sam walked away. He covered his eyes with his forearm, trying to ignore how they burned.

* * *

 

“You keep beehives?” Cas asked Jacob, eyes lighting up with interest as he observed the long row of hives. So far that morning, he’d learned how to milk cows, slop pigs, feed chickens, and toss pitchforks full of hay into feed bins. The hand me down jeans Dean had given him were dirty and dusty, his shoulders burned from the increased activity, and he was sure there was at least one or two pieces of straw in his hair, but Cas hadn’t felt so content in some time.

“Well, Lyddie does the beekeeping ‘round here. She sells the honey and puts a little money in our pockets.”

Cas watched a happy bee buzz past him and smiled. “Bees are so important. Without them, so many of the foods we enjoy would basically disappear.”

“Hmm. As long as you’re staying, Steve, would you like to help with the bees?”

Pushing down a little bubble of excitement, Cas smiled. “As I told you yesterday, I’m happy to help in anyway that I can.”

“If you plan to stay, we could let you use the  _Daadi Haus_ . It’s the small set of rooms attached to the main house.” Jacob tossed a bale of hay into the wagon. “My _Maam_ and _Daed_ are long passed, and as Lydia and I have no children, I can’t see us needing that house for anything. We’d be happy to let you have it in exchange for the work you put in around here.”

He couldn’t help it. Cas’s eyes filled with tears. “You are so kind. I don’t know what I did -”

“Let me be clear, Steve. Lydia and I know you’re running from something - or someone. We know you have no place to go, no family. But you’re welcome here. You don’t have to tell us what happened to you or where you’ve been, just be honest, work hard, and don’t give us reason to regret bringing you in. That’s all. Got a roof over your head and Lydia’s fine cooking. You’re safe here.”

Castiel’s bottom lip trembled. “I will work as hard as my body is able, I swear it.”

Jacob patted his shoulder. “I know you will. You’re a _gut_ man. I feel the Lord is telling me to watch over you. I might hear it from the Bishop, mind you, but I’ll make him see reason. Ain’t right to send a man with nothin’ back out into the cold world.” Jacob went back to tossing bales onto the wagon as if they weighed nothing while Cas stood beside him, lost in thought.

“...have to get you some decent work boots. After while, Lydia said she’d do your washin’ for you.”

“What?” Cas blinked at Jacob.

“Your washin’. Clean your clothes.”

“Oh, right. I’m sorry, I was distracted.”

Jacob waved him off. “Come, let’s get this hay out to the field and then we’ll head up to the house for lunch.” He leaned in closer and grinned. “My Lyddie’s making fried chicken today.”

Cas’s stomach growled loudly and Jacob barked a laugh. “That sounds wonderful,” he said earnestly.

“And it’s so _gut_ , too.”

Motivated by the idea of a hot lunch, Cas hopped up in the wagon, and he and Jacob spent the next hour dropping bales of hay around the pasture for the cows to eat.

“Well, that’s that. Let’s head on up to the house, Steve.”

“Cas,” Castiel told him softly.

“Come again?”

“My name. It’s not Steve. It’s Cas. Castiel.”

“Castiel? Right interestin’ name.”

“I was uh -” Cas scratched at his sweaty hair. “Named for an angel,” he finally said. “But a good friend,” there was that little pang in his chest again, “nicknamed me Cas and it stuck.”

“Alright then, Cas. Let’s go get some of Lydia’s chicken.” Jacob patted Cas’s shoulder and turned towards the house, like it didn’t matter that Castiel had lied to him.

Cas watched him go. How had he managed to find such kind people? He stared up at the sky for a moment.

“Maybe you’re watching over me after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gut - Good  
> Yah - Yes  
> Fraa - wife  
> Daadi Haus - Granparents' house  
> Maam - Mom  
> Daed - Dad


	2. It's Just a Silly Phase I'm Going Through

“What is his deal?”

“I don’t know. He’s been moping around here since Cas left. I don’t get it.” Sam’s voice trailed out into the hall beside the kitchen where Dean leaned up against a wall, eavesdropping on his brother and friend. “I don’t even understand why Cas left. He’s safer here.”

“Dean’s worried about you, I think,” Charlie said.

“Yeah, which is stupid. I mean look at me. I went for a run this morning. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with me, and this place is the safest place I know. I don’t know what’s going on with him.”

“It’s Dean,” Kevin offered dryly. “He’s weird. Not like that changed in the time I was gone.”

Dean’s traitorous eyes burned and he turned and stumbled back down the hallway. In his room, he shut the door and leaned against it, catching his breath. 

An urge to scream overwhelmed him, but he pushed it down until it wasn’t there. Buried, like everything else he’d ever felt. Dean slid down the door until he was sitting on the floor. He pulled his knees up to his chest and folded his arms over his legs, dropping his head into the cradle of his forearms. He worked his way through the breathing exercises Lisa had taught him a million years ago, trying to stave off the panic attack he could feel building. 

The guilt threatened to eat him alive. 

He’d tricked his brother. He’d tricked him into letting an angel possess him, knowing full well that was the last thing Sam would want. All because he was too weak to face the idea of life alone - except he wouldn’t have been alone. Charlie was in the world. And Cas. Garth. Kevin. Jody. 

None of them would have left him to deal with Sam’s death on his own. And while the idea of living without Sam was damn near unthinkable to him, he couldn’t help feel the guilt of taking that choice from his brother. He’d denied his brother his right to make his own decisions about his life -  _ again _ . 

Dean rubbed at his burning eyes, still refusing to let the tears fall. A knock on his door nearly startled him out of his skin. 

“Dean? You up?” Charlie stage whispered. 

Pulling himself to his feet, he opened the door. “What’s up?”

“You look kinda rough,” Charlie told him, concern in her eyes. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Not much.”

“Want some breakfast? There’s pancakes.”

“Not hungry.”

“But you didn’t eat last night…” she trailed off as Dean walked away from her, towards his record player. “I’m worried about you.”

“Nothin’ to worry about. I’m -”

“Fine. Right. Got it. But it’s ok if you’re not fine and I’m here and I’m a good listener.”

“Charlie -”

Her small hand landed on his back, between his shoulders. She rubbed there for a moment and Dean found himself leaning into her touch. “You’re hurting. I can tell. And maybe I don’t know what it’s about for sure, but I have an idea. If you don’t know where he is -”

Dean stiffened. 

“- but you want to find out, you know I’m damn good at tracking people down. I’m the damn best, let’s be real here.” She rubbed him a moment more. “You know where to find me,” she said softly. The hand disappeared and a moment later, his door closed. 

Letting out a shuddering breath, Dean stumbled backwards towards his bed, collapsing onto the memory foam. He gave up on fighting the tears and let them come, covering his face with his hands and crying silently. 

“I fucked up,” he whispered to himself. “I fucked up and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Then let me help,” Charlie murmured, scaring him so badly he fell off the bed. 

“I thought you left!” 

“No, I just closed the door!” 

“Fuckin’ hell, Charlie!” he yelled, swiping frantically at his eyes. 

“Now stop pretending everything is ok and tell me what’s going on!” she demanded. “You’re on the floor in tears. You. Are. Not. Ok!” 

“I’m not, alright? I haven’t been for about two weeks now. Hell, maybe longer. I asked Cas to leave, Charlie, do you get it? I sent him away because I’m a lying, fucked up, piece of shit!”

“You asked him to leave? Because of the angels hunting him?”

“Well, yeah. That’s part of it.” He swiped at his still streaming eyes. “I can’t - I can’t tell you everything.”

“Hmm.” Charlie sat on the floor beside him, both of them leaning up against the bed. “What if I told you I think I might have already figured it out.”

“What?” Dean turned to her, fear brimming in his chest. “What did you - uh - figured out what?”

“Remember yesterday when we were fighting the witch and I got knocked out? I told you I dreamt of Christmas with my parents?”

“Uh, yeah,” Dean said slowly. “It was a drea-”

“What if it wasn’t a dream? Dorothy told me you’re not a real hunter unless you die at least once and that anyone the Witch zapped died. I got zapped and,” Charlie reached for his hand, weaving their fingers together, “I think I died. I think I died and whatever is in Sam’s body brought me back.”

Dean heart dropped. “What are you - what are you talking about?”

“Dean. You told me Sam was dying. And now he’s fine. He’s got an angel inside of him, doesn’t he?”

“How did you figure that out?” Dean asked incredulously. 

“Oh god, I’m right. Oh, Dean.” Charlie shook her head. “How the hell did you get him to agree to that?”

All the blood drained from Dean’s face and he turned his head away. 

“Shit. He doesn’t know?” Charlie whispered. 

He shook his head. 

“Dean, what have you done?”

“I had to. He was dying. Ezekiel showed up and he was hurt, too, needed a vessel. He promised to heal Sam in exchange for the use of his body but I knew Sam would never agree, that he’d rather die and -”

“Shit, Dean, do you have any idea what a violation that is? Why the hell would you do that to him?”

“Charlie, don’t you think I’ve beat myself up about this already? I’ve ripped myself a new one so many times and I, shit - I shouldn’t have done it, but he was dying, Charlie, I wasn’t even thinking clearly!”

“So is this why Cas is gone?”

“Yeah. Zeke made me send Cas away. He made me choose between Cas and Sam and I have hated myself every day for the last couple of weeks because of this. And Cas’s face - fuck, Charlie, he looked so damn betrayed and I don’t know where he is and I’m fucking worried sick, ‘cause he’s being hunted by these angels that want to punish him for the fall. It wasn’t even his fault. He was tricked by this motherfucker named Metatron. But the other angels, they don’t want to listen to reason.”

“Ok. So we find him and bring him home.”

“I can’t, Charlie! Haven’t you been listening? If I do that, Zeke leaves Sam and I don’t know if Sam’s healed enough yet.” He ran a hand over his face. “I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place here.”

“Shit,” Charlie muttered. 

They sat in silence for a bit and Dean could practically hear the gears turning in Charlie’s head as she formulated some kind of plan. Dean sat beside her, feeling completely drained and utterly exhausted. 

“Ok. I’m going to start tracking him. Do you have credit card information? You did give him a card, right?”

“Yeah.” Dean dragged himself to his feet and opened his desk. “Here’s the info,” he handed her a paper. 

“Steve Winwood?” Charlie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No one knows who Steve Winwood is anymore.”

“I know who Steve Winwood is. C’mon, Dean.”

“Whatever. Anyway, he had about $500 on that and I gave him $200 cash.”

“That’s it? Really?”

“It’s all I had, Charlie!” 

“Ok, I’m sorry.” She folded the paper and tucked it into her jeans. 

Dean sat on the edge of the bed. “What are we going to do about Ezekiel?”

“Find Cas first. Go get him. Then we’ll deal with the angel riding shotgun in Sam. Ok?”

“Yeah.”

Charlie stood and wrapped her arms around Dean’s shoulders. He leaned forward, resting his head on her belly. “We will fix this. I promise. Ok?”

He nodded against her, too afraid to try and speak. Dean felt fragile, like spun glass, ready to shatter with the wrong move.

“Take a nap. Try and sleep. I’m going to get cracking.”

He nodded again and she leaned down and kissed the top of his head. She left on silent feet, carefully shutting the door behind her. 

Following Charlie's instructions, Dean stretched out on his bed, crossing his arms behind his head. He stared at the ceiling and tried not to think about Cas, which of course meant  _ all _ he could think about was Cas. 

* * *

 

“I lost him,” Charlie told him sadly, when Dean reappeared for dinner. “I was able to track him as far as Erie, Pennsylvania. He bought a bunch of bus tickets between here and there, most of them on the card. Didn’t seem to have a destination in mind, unless he’s hunting something. He’s been as far west as Colorado Springs, then he doubled back through Nebraska, Illinois, and Kentucky. Last ticket was bought in St. Louis, Missouri, one way to Erie. And that’s when I lose him.” She slid a notebook across the table. “I kept track of how much the fares cost and he spent about $489, so the card is definitely toast. Stands to reason he burned the rest of the $200 on food.”

“Shit. So now we don’t know where he is and he’s probably out of cash.” Dean’s stomach turned. He could smell something good in the oven, but it made him want to throw up. “What do I do?”

“Personally? I think we tell Sam we’ve got a Comic-con or something and head up to Erie. I’ll bring my cute little Fed suit and we’ll ask around.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Damn right I would, Handmaiden. I said I’d help you find him. That wasn’t limited to just trackin’ him on the web.”

The nausea faded a bit as a hopeful bundle of warmth burned in Dean’s chest.

Sam appeared, and Charlie slid the notebook under her laptop. “I put one of your lasagnas in the oven, Dean. That ok? I can make a salad, too.”

“Ooh, and garlic bread!” Charlie said. 

“Sounds great.” Dean’s stomach growled, the nausea totally gone. “I’m pretty hungry. I got an itch a couple weeks back,” Dean explained, “so I made all these dishes that could be frozen and cooked up later.”

“Whoa, so this is like homemade lasagna?” 

“Yeah,” Dean said proudly.

“Holy shit!”

“And it’s really good,” Sam enthused. “We need to eat at home more often!” He slapped Dean on the back playfully and left the kitchen. 

Dean waited until he was sure Sam was gone. “He’s going to kill me when he finds out what I did to him.”

“Oh, he’s gonna be mad, definitely. But I think he’ll forgive you. Might take a bit, but he will. Sam’s your brother, and he loves you.”

“Yeah, I know.” Dean stood and crossed the kitchen to the fridge, pulling out a couple of beers. “I just - I was so scared. But what a shitty thing to do to a guy.”

“Agreed. Let’s focus on Cas for the moment.”

“We’ve got to find an actual event to tell Sam. He’d figure out something fake in a heartbeat.” Dean flipped the cap off his beer and glanced down at his worn Led Zeppelin shirt, an idea forming.

“Yup.” Charlie stared intently at her laptop screen as Dean sat back down and handed her an open beer. “I’ve got a few things that might fit.”

“Charlie, I got it. I got it!” Dean took her laptop and typed something into the search bar. He smiled triumphantly and slid it back to her. 

“Oh dude. You are a genius! This is perfect!” She clicked on a few of the links while Dean beamed at her. “You’re sure Sam won’t want to come along?”

“Very.”

“Alright then, Operation Find Hot Wings is a go!”

* * *

 

Castiel woke to the sound of rain, stretching languidly in the comfortable bed in his new room. It was still dark out. Jacob and Lydia rose at 4:30 sharp every morning, and went to bed at 8:00pm. It was an adjustment, but Cas was quickly becoming used to it. 

Already, he caught the smell of coffee coming from the larger house. That was enough motivation to get out of bed and get moving. There was a chill in the air that morning. Jacob had told Cas the night before that he thought it might frost, and it felt like he was likely right. 

Digging through the duffel bag he hadn’t fully unpacked, Cas added one of Sam’s old hoodies to his outfit before sitting down to lace up the work boots Jacob had gotten him. He’d been at the Beilers' for three days now, and felt comfortable and at home, despite the aches and pains of the increased workload. He hadn’t felt the miserable pang of hunger in three full days, sated thrice daily by Lydia’s phenomenal food. 

“Good morning, Castiel,” Lydia greeted. She handed him a steaming mug of coffee, which he took gratefully. “How did you sleep?”

“Wonderfully.”

“ _ Dats gut _ ,” she smiled, slipping into her familiar tongue. “After breakfast, I’ve got to get the last produce out of the garden. It didn’t frost last night, but it likely will tonight. After lunch, I can show you how to work with the bees. They don’t require much.”

“I’m familiar with bees and I’ve harvested honey before.” A memory resurfaced, Castiel standing in a cabin in Whitefish, Montana with an offering in a small plastic bag. Cas’s face heated as he remembered another memory involving Dean’s car and an entire hive of honeybees. 

He watched Lydia greet Jacob with a cup of coffee. The older man leaned in for a kiss as Lydia fried bacon and eggs. Without being asked, Castiel went to the cabinets and quickly set the table, omitting the fourth setting Aaron used at lunchtime. He got the creamer and butter from the propane powered fridge, and the sugar bowl from the counter, setting all of those items on the table. By the time Lydia delivered the hot portion of breakfast, Castiel had the rest of it ready. 

“ _ Ach _ , but you’re such a  _ gut _ helper, Cas,” Lydia told him. She dished an extra large portion of eggs on his plate, with a couple of thick sausage links and three slices of bacon. 

“For food like this, I’m more than happy to help.” 

Jacob bowed his head for silent prayer and Castiel followed, sending up one of his own for once. 

_ If you can hear me Father, thank you for whatever providence led me to these kind and welcoming people. I am grateful for their protection and mercy.  _ He paused, listening for Jacob’s grunt, but it didn’t come. _ Father, please look after Dean and Sam. They are important to me, and I think about them often. Especially Dean, and I don’t know if - _

Jacob grunted, signifying the end of prayer time. Both Lydia and Jacob dug into their food and Cas inwardly sighed. 

It’s not like God was actually listening to him anyway. 

* * *

 

Cas pulled a small wagon full of mason jars across the front lawn. Each jar was full of delicious, golden honey. 

“Alright, we’re going to just tie a pretty ribbon around each one of these and put a price tag on it.” Lydia handed him a pair of scissors and a spool of blue gingham ribbon. “Just make a little bow and I’ll do the pricing.”

“Ok.” Cas snipped a piece of ribbon and wrapped it around the jar, making a knot. He brought the two ends of the ribbon together into a jaunty little bow.

“Perfect,” Lydia praised, taking the jar from Cas. She added a $10 tag to it, sitting it in a little wooden cabinet facing the road. 

“And no one steals from you?”

“Mmm, as far as I can tell, no one ever has. There’s  _ gut _ , honest people ‘round here, Castiel.”

“My apologies.”

“Do you come from somewhere a person wouldn't be able to trust his neighbor?”

That was a loaded question. Where should he say he came from, anyway? Cas couldn’t exactly mention his true origins. He tied another ribbon onto a jar, thinking. “I’ve met some dishonest people,” was all he ended up saying. 

“Ah.” 

He and Lydia finished the rest of the jars in a comfortable silence, lining them up in the cabinet when they were done. 

“You see,” she told him, opening a metal cash box. “This has been sitting out here all week. I keep forgetting to check it. There’s quite a bit of money in here. It’s all there, no one took it. Honest people in places like this. Maybe you’d consider staying?”

“I don’t know if I can. I have learned, in the past several weeks, that one’s circumstances can change in an instant.”

Lydia’s brown eyes caught a hint of afternoon sun, lighting up the gold in her irises. “You’ve had your heart broken, haven’t you?” she asked softly. 

“I’m - I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You were in love. Someone hurt you.” She didn’t phrase her words as questions, seemingly sure of herself. 

“I don’t - I don’t think -” Cas sighed and ran a hand over his face as he turned away from her. He needlessly straightened the jars in the little cabinet. “If I was, it was utterly one sided. And yes, they did hurt me. But I don’t think they realize that they did.” He chuckled bitterly. “I doubt they care.”

“I’m sorry,” Lydia said, taking his arm. “I don’t mean to pry.”

“It’s ok. You have a right to at least know something about the man living in your home.”

“I made sweet potato pie this morning. How ‘bout a little snack before dinner?” She smiled up at him, still holding onto his arm.

“That would be nice,” Cas smiled back. “I’ll put the wagon back and meet you in the kitchen.”

Lydia nodded and turned towards the house, but stopped, looking back at Castiel. Sunlight shone through the white fabric of her kapp, turning the blonde in her hair to spun gold. “My  _ Maam _ always told me this was a good place to reflect, to heal. To meet God in his country. Maybe you’ll find your peace here, Castiel. Maybe you’ll heal.” 

Castiel watched her walk up the little hill towards the house, a burgeoning sense of hope flooding his new, utterly human soul. 

“Maybe I will,” he murmured. “Maybe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dats gut - that's good  
> Ach - doesn't really have a meaning, just kinda of a Ah or Oh kind of thing. Like Ach, Cas you're a gut helper would be like Oh, Cas, you're a good helper.


	3. Despite My Growing Fears

Dean dropped a duffel full of clothes into the back of the Impala. He added Charlie’s bag, then grabbed the old green cooler, sliding it into the back seat. 

“You sure you don’t want to come?” he asked Sam again, fingers crossed that his brother would beg off. 

“Nah, you guys go have fun and stuff. Just bring me something cool. Like a Pearl Jam shirt,” he added hopefully. 

“I'll see what I can do,” Dean grinned. “There's a couple of things in the freezer. I premade some pizzas. Toss one on the pizza pan and bake it at 425 for fifteen minutes. And I made some of that chicken salad you like and got some whole wheat pitas for you. And hummus. Oh and some -”

“I got it, Dean,” Sam grinned. “I’m not a kid.”

“I know but -”

“But I’m healing and need three good meals a day and I’ll eat, I promise.”

“Ok. Don’t forget to feed and water Kevin.”

Sam threw his head back and laughed. “Yeah, I won’t. No worries.”

“And keep him away from Crowley!”

Rolling his eyes, Sam huffed. “Duh, Dean,” he grumbled. 

“Ready, Handmaiden?” Charlie bounced into the garage.

“Born ready, Your Majesty.”

“Are you sure you’re willing to spend three days staring at old rock and roll shit with him?” 

“Totes magotes, Sam! Plus, Cleveland is cool!”

“If you say so. Have fun!” 

Charlie and Dean settled in the car and Dean fired her up as Sam opened the garage doors. Dean honked merrily as they pulled out. 

“That was genius. Rock and Roll Hall of Fame? Yeah. Genius.”

“Ha! I was scared he was going to come along. I’ve been nervous all week that he’d just up and say hey, I’m coming with.”

“Do you think Kevin will be ok alone with him…and Crowley?”

“Yeah. Zeke’s never shown interest in Kevin one way or the other and Crowley is locked up. Zeke just doesn’t want Cas around.” Dean slid his copy of Zep’s  _ Houses of the Holy _ into the tape deck. “Man, I will be glad when all of this is over.”

“I hear you.” Charlie leaned back into her seat. “We’ll find him, Dean. I promise.”

* * *

 

Dean drove for hours. At first, Charlie sang and yapped and generally made herself enjoyable company. After the sun went down, she passed out, head smushed against the passenger side door. He may or may not have snapped a picture and texted it to Sam for later blackmailing purposes. 

They’d left late, and after ten hours, Dean was flagging. He found a small motel just outside of Chicago in Naperville, and booked a room with two doubles for the night. 

“C’mon, Charlie. Gotcha a real bed.”

“Mmm, sleep here young Skywalker,” Charlie murmured, burrowing into the Impala’s leather. 

“Nah, come on. Padawans sleep better in a bed.”

“Not a padawan,” Charlie grumbled, letting Dean pull her from the car. She dropped into the center of the first bed and rolled herself into a burrito. “Night,” she yawned, zonking back out. 

Dean smiled indulgently at her before getting their bags from the car and locking up. He started the water in the shower and stripped down to his boxers, tossing all the clothes on his bed. The little no name motel had fantastic water pressure and Dean lingered, letting hot water beat on his shoulders while his mind wandered. 

He thought about the last time he’d seen Cas and the hurt in his blue eyes as he left him at the bus station in Salina. Dean had packed a duffel for Cas, full of clothes he didn’t use anymore and a hoodie he’d pilfered from Sam. He’d thrown a couple of paperbacks and bunch of snacks in as well. 

Pulling away from that bus station, it had taken everything Dean had in him not to turn around and pick up the forlorn figure he could see in the rear view mirror. Dean hadn’t cried then. Had refused to. He didn't cry now, forehead pressed to the cold tile as the hot water rolled down his back. His eyes burned miserably as he fought to keep the tears at bay. Exhaustion had turned his walls to rubble and the guilt threatened to bury him. 

“I’m sorry, Cas,” he whispered. “I know you can’t hear me anymore, but I’m coming for you. I’m going to bring you home and we’ll figure all the rest of this crap out. I promise you.”

The water started to cool, so Dean shook himself into action, washing his hair with perfunctory efficiency. He shut off the water and dried himself off, slipping into clean boxers. Quickly brushing his teeth, Dean left the bathroom. 

Charlie was snoring - loudly.

“That’s a lot of unmajestic noise, Your Majesty,” Dean muttered. He pulled the covers down, crawling wearily into the bed. As tired as he was, Dean thought he’d have fallen asleep right away. 

Instead, he stared at the ceiling for most of the night.

* * *

 

A slamming door startled Dean and he sat straight up in bed. 

“Sorry!” Charlie apologized. “I tried to catch it, but,” she held up two McDonald's bags, “hands were full. Hungry?”

Dean’s stomach growled. “Hell, yes,” he said, happily taking a food bag from her. He leaned back in bed, moaning around the greasy, salty goodness of a hash brown. “Wha’ time s’it?” He asked around bites. 

“Just after nine. I’m kinda surprised you slept this long.”

“Was like six before I passed out.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Charlie settled on her own bed and started cutting up pancakes. “Bad night?”

“You could say that.” They munched in companionable silence. 

Charlie finished first and gathered her clothes. “Gonna shower and then I’ll get my shit together.”

“Sounds good. We’re only about six hours from Erie, so we don’t need to rush too much. Hey, y’think maybe Cas would want to see the Hall of Fame on the way home? Might be kinda cool.”

A sympathetic look crossed Charlie’s face. “Well, I don’t really know him, but I think he’d be up for anything you wanted to do.”

“Provided we find him. And he forgives me.” Dean stared down at his Egg McMuffin, appetite pretty much gone. “He probably hates me. If he’s not dead in a ditch somewhere.” Dean’s eyes burned. 

“Hey,” Charlie cupped Dean’s chin in her hand. “No talking like that. We’re going to find him and you’re going to explain what happened. We’ll take it from there. Ok?”

Dean nodded miserably. 

“Get your stuff together and get dressed. I’ll make this quick.”

“You feel like driving?”

Charlie stopped dead halfway between the bathroom and his bed. “Are you serious?” She turned around, eyes wide. 

“Yeah. I’m exhausted and I’d probably wreck her.”

“Oh. My. God!” Charlie yelled. “I’ve been waiting for so long to drive your baby, oh my god, oh my god!” She bounced up and down. “Yes! Yes, I will drive!”

“Great. Go get ready.”

“Ok! Yay!” Charlie yelled, slamming the bathroom door shut. 

Dean chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. He stared down at the remains of his breakfast and gave up, shoving everything back into the bag. Part of him wanted to sprawl back under the covers and close his eyes. The rest of him, however, was ready and raring to go, excited to get to Erie and find Cas. 

He tossed his breakfast trash into the can beside the bed and swung his legs around, putting his feet flat on the floor. Dean checked his phone for messages then stood, stretching his arms over his head. By the time Charlie exited the bath, he’d packed all his things and moved them out to the car. 

Charlie babbled happily while she packed, but Dean sat in a chair, zoning out. He wondered if Cas was safe somewhere. If he had food to eat and a roof over his head. He wondered if anyone was looking out for him. 

The last time Cas had been on his own it had ended badly. Sure, he’d found someone to take care of him. Of course, she’d tried to kill him, too. If Zeke hadn’t been there -

“Dean?” 

Startled out of his morose train of thought, Dean looked up at his friend. 

“Ready when you are,” Charlie said brightly, holding her hand out. 

Dean stared at her outstretched hand for a moment, confused. “Oh, right,” he said finally. He tossed her the keys. “Go easy on her. She’s a lot bigger than your little car and the turning radius -”

“I got it. I’m not trying out for the Indy 500,” Charlie told him, a note of irritation in her voice. “C’mon, let’s go.” She scooped up her duffel and headed outside. 

Dean sat in the chair a moment longer, the exhaustion making him not want to move at all, let alone walk to the car. Huffing a mighty sigh, he dragged himself to his feet, following his friend out into the bright sunlight.

* * *

 

On Saturday morning, Castiel helped Jacob load boxes into the wagon. Inside each box were baked goods, made by Lydia’s own hand. The boxes, along with a crate of honey, were heading to a farmer’s market, where Lydia would sell them. A second wagon was currently being loaded full of pumpkins and other squashes and gourds. 

“We make a fair amount of money at the market,” Jacob explained. “The _Englischers_ love Amish baked goods and produce. Seem to think it tastes a mite better than that found in a grocery store. Lydia’s sisters will likely be there with their quilts. We’ll have to introduce you.”

“Alright.” 

Lydia hurried out to the wagons, pulling a large cooler on wheels behind her. “Lunch,” she explained, as Castiel reached down to lift it into the wagon. “ _ Danki _ .”

“My pleasure.”

“Now, I’ll be warning you, Cas. Some of the Englischers we’ll encounter often make rude remarks about our clothes, our way of life. Just bite your tongue and ignore it. Not worth the trouble. Alright?”

“Ok.”

“ _ Dats gut _ . Let’s get going, it’s an hour’s ride.” Jacob helped Lydia up into the wagon of baked goods. Cas climbed up onto the wagon full of pumpkins, taking his seat beside Aaron. 

It was much cooler that morning, and the frost had indeed come the night before. Cas was grateful for the heavy black coat Jacob had lent him, and the thick, homemade woolen gloves Lydia had given him. With his nearly black jeans and boots, if he traded the hoodie for one of the black felt hats Aaron and Jacob wore, he’d blend in, perhaps look like he belonged. 

Many other wagons were parked in the field where the market would be set up. Amish women in pastel colored dresses and white kapps set up folding tables, while men unloaded goods and tended to the horses. 

“We’ll set up the produce here,” Jacob told Castiel. “Follow Aaron’s lead. I’m going to help Lyddie set up her table.”

Cas nodded as he slid out of the wagon. Aaron gave him a basic rundown of how the pumpkins should be arranged and Castiel got to work. It didn’t take long to get the produce set up, so he wandered over to Lydia and helped her set up the honey and baked treats. 

Cas picked up a pecan pie and examined it. “Dean would like this. Pecan is his favorite,” he smiled, not even thinking about the words he was saying. 

“Who’s Dean?” Lydia asked. “I’ve never heard you mention him before.”

“Ah. A um - someone I used to know,” he said quietly. He handed over the pie, avoiding Lydia’s gaze. “Is there anything else I can do to help?”

Lydia looked around. “I think we’re just about ready. Fetch the folding chairs out of the wagon?”

“Of course.” Cas turned and walked to where the wagons were, looking for Jacob’s. They all looked exactly the same. 

“Can I help you, friend?” 

He turned to find a couple of Amish men staring at him. “I’m trying to find Jacob Beiler's wagon. Lydia would like a chair. Unfortunately, they all look the same to me.”

“Ah. You’re Jacob’s new helper. Carl? Conner?”

“Castiel.”

“Right.” The men, boys really, were staring at Cas. He felt himself wither a bit under their combined gazes. Luckily, he spotted Jacob’s wagon and excused himself, grabbing the four folding chairs and heading quickly back to Lydia’s table. 

“I don’t think those boys like me much,” he told Lydia as he unfolded a chair for her. 

“Pay them no mind. They’re in the middle of  _ rumspringa _ . Sowing their wild oats and all.”

“Oh,  _ rumspringa _ . The running around years.”

Lydia looked surprised. “You sure do seem to know a lot about The People, Castiel. How is that?”

“I know a lot about a lot of things,” Cas told her honestly. “I’ve been alive a long time.”

“You can’t be a day over thirty-five. How old are you?”

“I’m not really sure. Older than this body.” Cas moved to unfold another chair, settling beside Lydia when he was done. 

“That’s a very strange thing to say.”

“Oh. I am strange, I suppose. This body is forty years old.”

“So you’re forty?” Lydia looked confused, and too slowly, Cas realized he’d been talking like an angel again, not a human.

“Yes, I’m forty. I’m sorry. Sometimes I get mixed up and say things I shouldn’t. My apologies, Lydia.”

“It’s alright.” She looked as though she wanted to say more, but a customer appeared and had questions about the honey. 

The day went quickly. Castiel met many members of the Beilers' extended family, and while most seemed pleasant enough, a few were openly suspicious of him. He chalked it up to the couple being well loved in the community, and their friends and family only sought to protect them. 

He helped the men break down the tables and repack the wagons, and they were home by sundown. 

“Next Saturday, we’ll be heading out to Jeremiah Yoder’s place to rebuild his barn. Think you’d like to come along?”

“I would. I’m willing to help in all ways that I can.”

Jacob smiled, tossing a fork full of hay into a feed bin. “And that you do. You’ve been a godsend, Castiel. You work hard, don’t give us any reason to worry. Happy to have you here. You stay as long as you want. Forever, if that’s how you’re leanin’.” 

“Thank you, Jacob.” Cas ran a brush over Clyde, the buggy horse’s neck. “It’s so peaceful here. I’m comfortable, and I don’t mind the work. Thank you for letting me stay.”

“You don’t have to thank me everyday, Cas. Come now, let’s finish up. I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for supper!”

Cas’s stomach growled and both men laughed. “I am, too.”

* * *

 

Dean and Charlie found a motel on Peach Street in Erie. “Let’s find some place for dinner,” Dean said, tossing his bag on the bed. 

“There’s a wing place within walking distance,” Charlie said, looking out the window. “Looks like a garage though.”

“Let’s go check it out.” Quaker Steak and Lube looked like an old auto shop, and Dean laughed when he looked up at the shell of a NASCAR suspended above their table. “This is kitchy,” he grinned. He and Charlie ordered cheese fries, several plates of different flavored wings to share, and a pitcher of beer. 

“Ok, while we’re waiting for the food, what’s the plan?”

“Well, I hate to say it, but if Cas has no money and no job, we should probably start with homeless shelters.” Dean stared down at the table. “Shit,” he whispered. 

“Dean, don’t. Yeah, you messed up, ok. Don’t wallow. We’ve got a job to do.” Charlie whipped out her notebook. “So homeless shelters, soup kitchens. What else?”

“Um. Cheap motels. Efficiencies. Migrant housing.”

“Migrant housing?”

“Yeah,” Dean smiled up at the waitress as she set the pitcher on the table. He poured himself and Charlie a glass of beer before continuing. “I did some research before we got up here. Next town over, heading east. Lot of grape fields. There’s a Welch's plant over there, and there’s all kinds of little houses for rent. This time of the year, most of the migrant workers are down south looking for farm work. All of those little houses will be empty and they rent cheap.”

“Ok.” Charlie scribbled all of this into her little notebook, finishing up just as the waitress arrived with their wings. 

Dean dug in, loading his plate with wings and fries, but three wings in and his appetite was waning. He pushed food around his plate while Charlie pigged out, distracted and worrying about Cas. It was cold in Erie; the idea of Cas sleeping in a cardboard box somewhere made chills run down his spine. 

“Hey. Did you hear a single thing I said?”

“Uh -” Dean looked up and shrugged apologetically. “Not really?”

“I said you need to eat. We’re going to be out all day tomorrow and you need to have the energy to do it. You barely ate this morning, you skipped lunch, and you didn’t eat much last night either. You’ve got to eat, Dean.” Charlie waved a wing at him. “These are good. Make some disappear.”

“Ok, ok,” Dean held up his hands in surrender. “I’ll eat.”

“Damn right. Then we’ll go back and iron our suits. Tomorrow morning, Agents Lucas and Roddenberry take to the streets.”

“Plant and Page.”

“Nope. I made the badges. We’re Lucas and Roddenberry. Hey, I let you be Lucas.”

Dean rolled his eyes and shoved some fries in his mouth. 

* * *

 

“Well, that was a pointless waste of a day. Nothing. I don’t even - how has nobody seen him?” Dean dropped his overcoat onto a chair and flopped miserably onto his bed, still in his Fed suit. “This town isn’t that big!” he yelled at the ceiling. 

“It’s big enough.” Charlie examined the printed pictures of Cas she’d pulled from surveillance at various bus stations. “And these pictures aren’t that good.”

“Still, the pictures with our descriptions should be enough.” Dean sighed and rolled onto his side to face her. “It’s going to be really cold tonight and we have no idea where he is, if he’s somewhere warm or stuck out in the cold. This is bad. I thought for sure…” Dean sat up and rubbed a hand over his face. 

“I know you’re worried. We’ll canvas tomorrow, try that spot by Gannon University. One of the college kids told me there’s a few encampments by the railroad tracks. We’ll keep looking, Dean.”

“Yeah, but how long can I hold Sam off?”

“We could tell him we found a hunt.”

“Which he’ll double check on and call us out, and back to square one. Sam’s too smart for that!”

“Dammit, Dean! I’m trying to help!” Charlie put her hands on her hips and stared him down. “I know you’re worried, I know you’re upset, but yelling at the one person who’s really trying to help you is goddamn shitty!” Charlie snatched her coat off the chair. “I’m gonna go get us some dinner, sit here and chill the fuck out!” She wrenched open the door and slammed it shut again as she left. 

Dean closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands. He sat for a while, feeling sorry for himself, then stood and carefully pulled off the parts of his suit, hanging them neatly as he went. In squishy socks, sweats, and an old tee, he curled up in his bed to wait for Charlie, mentally rehearsing an apology speech. 

She was right - she was the only one helping him, and he wasn’t sure he’d have had the guts to come after Cas without her backup. 

_ Cas.  _

All day they’d canvassed the neighborhoods of downtown Erie, asking for directions to homeless camps, shelters, anywhere someone with limited resources might end up. And although the lady at the bus station thought she might have seen Cas, none of the homeless people they’d talked to had recognized him. Dean was doing his best to not lose hope, but it was getting harder and harder, clearly evidenced by the way he’d jumped on Charlie. 

Sighing heavily, Dean rubbed his tired eyes. 

“Where are you, man?” he asked the empty room. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Danki - thank you  
> Rumspringa - a time in Amish youth before Baptism when they're allowed to run wild. The idea is that experiencing the Englischer world will encourage them to return and be Baptized. During Rumspringa, many Amish youth cut their hair and buy cars.


	4. The Moment of Truth in Your Lies

 

Castiel sat in the back of Becky and Jeremiah Yoder’s house, listening to Bishop Daniel Hostetler preach a sermon entirely in German. Grateful that his full understanding of every language on earth hadn’t departed with his grace, Cas soaked in the reverent service as the Bishop spoke about the importance of Baptism.

Jacob had told him it would be fine to stay home that morning, but he’d accompanied Lydia and Jacob in the black family buggy instead, curious to witness an Amish church service first hand. They’d seemed surprised, but were more than welcoming.

The service ended with silent prayer, the entire congregation mobilizing afterwards to break down the benches and set up tables for lunch. Baskets of cold cuts and pie were brought out, plates and cups of juice were passed. Cas found himself seated between Jacob and the Bishop.

“Jacob says you’ve been right helpful to him.” Daniel smiled at Cas. “You plannin’ to stay?”

“I haven’t decided yet. The Beiler’s have been incredibly kind and have made me that offer, but I’m still unsure whether it’s the right decision for me - or them. If I stayed, it would continue to be an unusual arrangement, since I have no plans to convert.”

“An Englischer staying with Amish indefinitely is mighty strange,” Daniel offered. “But it wouldn’t be the first time. I can’t imagine this service was all that interesting for you, being in Pennsylvania Dutch and German.”

“Actually, I found the story you told about John the Baptist to be engaging, and a good allegory for the Amish expectations surrounding the practice of baptism.”

Silence fell over the table, all the eyes on him wide and surprised.

“You understood the sermon?” Jacob asked. “ _Kannscht du Pennsilfaanisch Deitsch schwetzer_?”

“I speak many languages,” Castiel told them.

“Well then,” Daniel chuckled. “That would make life much easier for you here, since most of us do prefer our old, _gut_ tongue.” He slapped Cas on the back. “I rather like you, Cas.”

The men at the table nodded their agreement, acceptance of the stranger in their midst made much easier by the bishop’s endorsement. They went back to their plates and conversations, while Castiel fell into an easy rapport with the bishop and Jacob.

On the wagon ride home, Castiel found himself full and content, leaning back in the buggy and smiling as the New York countryside went by.

It almost felt like - _home_.

* * *

 

_We need you._

_I need you._

_Cas, please -_

_No, Cas, don’t, please!_

Castiel sat straight up in bed, sweat soaking his shirt. He ran a shaking hand through his damp hair. Swinging his legs off the bed, he braced his hands on his knees. The wooden floor was cold against his bare feet, but Cas paid it no mind.

How long would Dean’s voice continue to haunt him?

Not bothering to light the kerosene lamp beside his bed, Cas walked across the hall to the small bathroom, turning on the taps until warm water ran out. He soaked a washrag and wrung it out, using the warm cloth to wipe the sweat from his face. Sniffling, Cas realized it wasn’t all sweat.

He’d been crying.

“That figures,” he muttered.

Moonlight lit the bath, and Cas stared at his own pallid face in the mirror, looking away after a moment. He hung the rag on the towel bar and stumbled back to the bedroom, shivering a bit in the chill. A clean tee replaced the sweat soaked one, then Cas burrowed back into the quilts.

Laying on his side, Cas tried to clear his thoughts and settle down.

_You can’t stay._

Huffing irritably, he rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling.

_You can’t stay._

Cas closed his eyes tight against the moonlight.

_You can’t stay._

He wondered if Dean felt any remorse. If he cared at all. Did he wonder where Castiel was? Or was he just moving on with life, hunting and picking up random strangers in bars for sex?

_I need you._

Dean Winchester didn’t need anyone. He definitely didn’t need Cas.

_You’re family._

“That’s not how you treat family,” Cas informed the empty room.

Giving sleep up for a lost cause, he pulled on a pair of fluffy socks and his hoodie, lit a lamp, and crossed through the doorway into Lydia and Jacob’s house. As quietly as possible, he fixed himself a cup of tea, stirring in a spoonful of lavender blossom honey from Lydia’s stash. He settled at the table with his mug. There was the sound of quiet footsteps on the stairs, and Lydia herself entered the kitchen, her hair bound in one long braid down the middle of her back. “Can’t sleep?”

“No,” Cas murmured. “I got tired of lying there.”

“I understand. Want a cinnamon bun?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Lydia returned a few moments later with two plates and her own mug. “I used to get those restless nights quite often.”

“I can’t turn my thoughts off,” Cas confided.

“ _Ach_ , that’s a troublesome thing.”

“Indeed.”

The warmth of the kitchen and their companionable silence comforted Cas, adding to that growing feeling of home. Lydia’s cinnamon buns were moist and delicious, delectable cream cheese icing soaking into every cinnamon laced nook and cranny.

“I think you surprised the bishop today. Surprised us, for certain. Where did you learn to speak our language?”

“I don’t know that I did learn. The knowledge has always just - been there. I know several languages.”

“Oh,” Lydia sipped her tea. “You’re a very educated young man, aren’t you?”

Cas frowned. “I don’t know that I am. I just - I have this knowledge in my mind. It’s always been there. I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t -” Cas trailed off. “You must think me very strange.”

“Unusual. Not the same thing,” Lydia smiled reassuringly. “What’s keeping you up tonight, Castiel? You look a bit sad.”

“Just uh - thinking about my old life.”

“Dean?”

Startled, Cas looked at Lydia with wide eyes.

“He’s the one, isn’t he? The one who broke your heart.”

“Lydia, I -”

“Oh, Castiel. I’m not that unaware of how the world outside my door works. I understand that in the Englischer world, there are men who love men, and women who love women. It’s not my place to judge. That job belongs to the Lord. I only ask, because you seemed so sad when you told me of his love for pecan pie.”

“He does love pie.” Cas stared down into his almost empty mug. “Yes, I was thinking about Dean. But I don’t want to talk about him.”

“Alright.” Lydia stood and cleaned up their dishes, taking them out to the sink. “Try and get some sleep, Castiel,” she said, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Morning will be here before you know it.” She kissed the top of his head and disappeared up the stairs.

Castiel sat there for a while, his thoughts heavy and sorrowful.

Back in his room, he settled under the quilts again, trying to push Dean’s face and words away long enough to sleep. But sleep never came, and when the rooster crowed, Cas dragged himself from his bed, as tired as if he’d never slept at all.

* * *

 

Dean yawned, staring blankly at the Cracker Barrel menu in his hand. Charlie was typing furiously on her phone, bright eyed and bushy tailed, having gotten a full eight hours while Dean worried, tossing and turning all night.

Two days later, and still no sign of Cas. Dean was beginning to lose hope.

“Hey, what are you getting?”

“Pancakes I guess. Order for me? I gotta hit the head.”

“Ok,” Charlie said, worry evident in her voice.

The fluorescent lights in the bathroom made Dean look worse than he did, and he splashed water on his face, trying to wake himself up just a little. He’d texted Sam that morning, letting him know he and Charlie were going to stay a couple more days, just because Cleveland was cool and Charlie wanted to. Sam had replied that he was glad, that he thought Dean should take some time off once in awhile, even going so far as to suggest a Vegas trip in a few months.

Dean agreed, angry at himself for lying to Sam _yet again_.

He got back to the table just as the waitress delivered their food, and Dean swallowed a wave of nausea.

“No. You have to eat, I don’t care how you feel,” Charlie hissed. “Dig in, Handmaiden. You’re eating. I’ll feed you myself if I have to.”

“Ok, ok,” Dean muttered, cutting into the pancakes.

Charlie attacked her breakfast with gusto. Dean worked on his slowly, methodically, half eavesdropping on the guys sitting behind them.

“...rode in the load? That’s crazy.”

“Claims he didn’t notice when the truck started, slept right through it.”

“But your rig is loud, Owen,” the one guy laughed.

“Tell me ‘bout it. But we get up there, Jacob finds the guy burrowed down in the hay. I wasn’t real impressed, but old Jacob, damn trustworthy fool, invites this moron up to his house. Now he’s livin’ up there with ‘em. Don’t trust him, I’m tellin’ ya.”

“Whatcha say his name was?”

Dean reached for his coffee, taking a long sip.

“Steve - uh, Steve Winchester.”

Charlie was none too pleased when Dean sprayed coffee all over the table, but he was already on his feet, picture of Cas and fake badge in hand.

“Uh, sorry to interrupt, fellas,” he gave them his most charming smile, “but did you say Steve Winchester?”

“I might have,” the one guy said, fixing beady eyes on Dean. “Who’s askin’?”

Dean whipped out his badge. “Agent Dean Lucas. This Steve, was he about my height, blue eyes, brown hair?”

“Uh, yeah, what’s this all about?” The suspicious look had turned to concern. “The Beilers are my friends. Is this guy dangerous?”

“No, no, not even a little. But he might be in danger, and we’re trying to protect him. Is this him?” Dean unfolded the picture and showed them, aware of Charlie joining him.

“Yeah, shit, that’s him alright. He rode up there on my load, was sound asleep when Jacob found him.”

“And you say he’s still there? Where is this farm?” Charlie asked, notepad at the ready.

“Rushford, New York. Coupla hours east from here.”

“Charlie, get the address, I’ll go pay the bill and we’ll go, alright?”

“Yeah, but Dean -”

He didn’t stick around, snatching the bill off the table and heading to the front. Charlie joined him as he finished settling the bill, the remains of their breakfasts in boxes. “Great, c’mon, let’s go.”

“Dean, wait -”

“Did you get the address?”

“Yeah, I did, but Dean -”

Dean pushed through the doors, heading straight for the Impala. “We’ll go to the motel, pack up, and head up to Rushford. We can get Cas back and head back to Lebanon and take care of the Sam situation -”

“Goddammit, Dean!” Charlie grabbed his arm. “Just wait a minute!”

“What, Charlie? Let’s go. We know where he is, let’s go get him!”

“I talked to that guy, Owen? He says Cas seems happy up there. He’s tending beehives and learning farming. Owen doesn’t trust him, but the family he’s living with seems to adore him.”

“Charlie, he gave the last name Winchester. He’s ready to come home, obviously.” Dean wrenched open the car door. “I’m going to go get him.”

“And what if he doesn’t want to come home? What then?”

“He wants to come home!” Dean yelled. “Why wouldn’t he?”

“I’m just saying,” Charlie held her hands up, “maybe don’t go in there all Captain Kirk, phasers armed and ready. Maybe talk to him, feel him out. You can’t just show up and demand he come home. You get me?”

Dean shook his head. “Get in the car, Charlie, or I’ll leave you here.” He slid into the driver's seat and shut the door. Charlie got in as he started the car, arms crossed over her chest and a stormy look on her face. “We’re going to get him,” Dean told her firmly. “And I’ll talk to him, and listen to what he has to say, but I’m sure he’ll want to come back with us. Ok?”

Charlie nodded woodenly, her only acknowledgment of his words.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” Dean said softly. “I just - I wanna go get him, ok?”

“Ok.”

Sighing, Dean pulled out of the lot.

Silence reigned as they tidied and packed the motel room. Dean changed out of his suit and into jeans, a tee, and a flannel shirt. He carefully hung his Fed suit back on the hangers and slipped them into his garment bag.

“I will talk to him,” he told Charlie, “I swear I won’t just go in there and demand he come home. I won’t be that big of a dick.”

“Ok. I just -” she sighed, dropping down on the bed. “I just don’t want you to get hurt and I think there’s more riding on this for you than just keeping Cas safe.”

“What does that mean?” Dean cocked a brow at Charlie.

“I just think, I mean, you care about him.” She pulled her hair into a ponytail and pulled it over one shoulder, idly playing with the ends.

“Yeah, of course I do. He’s family.” Dean zipped up his toiletry bag and shoved it in his duffel.

“That’s it? Just family. Like a brother, right?”

“Yeah. Exactly.”

She didn't look convinced. Dean sighed. Zipping the duffel shut, he tossed it over his shoulder. “You ready?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

* * *

 

Cas was setting jars of honey in the sale cabinet when he caught the sound of an engine. It sounded familiar, and he listened as it came up the hill towards the house. He’d just made it to the porch steps when the sound rounded the bend and his heart jumped into his throat when he saw the car.

“Castiel, what is it? Your face just went completely white,” Lydia rested a hand on his arm, following Cas’s eyes to the car now sitting in their driveway.

“Dean,” he whispered, as Dean pulled himself from the car. A redhead he didn’t know got out on the opposite side, shutting the door behind her.

“That’s Dean?”

“Yes.”

Lydia’s grip on his arm tightened. “ _Soll ich ihn wegschicken_?” Lydia asked, as Dean walked towards the porch, a big smile on his face.

“ _Neh_.”

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said. “Been lookin’ everywhere for you, man.”

“Hello, Dean.”

The redhead ran up the stairs and hugged him tightly. “Hi! I’m Charlie, and I’ve been wanting to meet you pretty much forever!”

“Oh, Charlie. I’ve heard so much about you. It’s nice to finally meet you.” Cas returned the hug.

Dean walked slowly up the porch, offering a hand to Lydia. “Dean Winchester. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Lydia Beiler.” She didn’t shake his hand and Cas felt a strange sense of satisfaction about that. “I’m going to go start a pot of coffee. Castiel, you can entertain your visitors in your rooms if you’d like.”

“Actually,” Charlie smiled, “I’d be happy to help you with that, so Dean and Cas can chat for a minute.”

“Alright,” Lydia agreed, “if that’s alright with Castiel.”

“I’m fine, Lydia. Dean and I do need to talk.”

Nodding, Lydia led Charlie inside, leaving Cas and Dean on the porch.

Dean stared down at his feet. “You uh, you look good, Cas.”

Cas huffed and stomped down the porch. If Dean wanted to talk, he could talk while Cas did his chores. Not looking to see if Dean was following him, Cas headed towards the hives.

[](http://imgur.com/aB9mfC3)

“Cas, wait!” Dean called, but Castiel didn’t stop walking.

He passed the barn and headed up the hill towards the apiary, zipping his coat as he went. The bees were buzzing lazily around the hives, the cold snap in the air making them lethargic and sluggish. A roll of tar paper leaned up against one of the hives he’d already wrapped.

“Cas, c’mon,” Dean pleaded, as Cas reached for the roll.

“You wanted to talk, then talk. I’ve got chores to do and you can talk while I do them.” Using a knife, he cut a large piece of the black paper off the roll. “I have to wrap the hives. It’ll help the bees keep warm over the winter. I told Lydia I’d complete this task today, because it’s going to keep getting colder. The bees have to be protected.”

Dean didn’t respond, and despite himself, Cas looked up. There was an indulgent smile on Dean’s face. “Learnin’ ‘bout bees, huh? You always did like ‘em.”

“They’re important,” Cas told him, turning away again.

“Cas, look, I shouldn’t have thrown you out of the bunker. But there’s things happening, and I didn’t have much choice.”

“What things?”

“I um - I fucked up, Cas. Big time.”

Curious, Cas set the roll and sheet of paper aside. “What did you do?”

“I um - um -” Dean took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face. _“IsortatrickedSamintolettinganangelusehimasavessel,_ ” he blurted out, all in one breath.

Cas’s jaw dropped.

“I know, I know, don’t look at me like that! But the angel that’s in him -”

“Why on earth is there an angel in your brother? What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t, ok? Sammy was dying from the trials and Ezekiel showed up. He was hurt too, and offered to fix Sammy up from the inside. I knew Sam would never say yes, so we tricked him.” Dean paced back and forth, wringing his hands as he explained.

“Why didn’t you just tell me? It would have saved me two weeks on the road, watching my money dwindle down to nothing. If I hadn’t found the Beilers, I likely would have starved!”

Dean blanched. “Shit, Cas, I’m sorry. Zeke said you had to leave.”

“Why?”

“Because Zeke said the angels are hunting you. Some douche named Bartholomew is building an army -”

“Bartholomew. One of Naomi’s protégés. Definitely a ‘douche’ as you would say.” Cas crossed his arms. “So because I’m being hunted, you kicked me out of arguably one of the safest places on the planet.”

“This isn’t new. I told you all this the night you left.”

“The night you kicked me out, you mean.”

Dean flushed. “Cas, he threatened to leave Sam and I don’t know if Sam’s well enough to handle it. If you come home with me, we can find a way to get Zeke out of Sam. I mean, he’s an angel, you’d know what to do.”

The flame of anger already burning inside of Cas flared. “That’s why you want me to come back then? To fix your mistakes once again?”

“No, Cas -”

“I’m not an angel anymore! I can’t fix what you break.”

“Cas, wait -”

Cas turned and started walking back towards the house. “That’s all I am to you, a tool. You live in a bunker full of important arcane information.” Cas stopped dead and spun to face Dean. “You fix it.” He pointed at Dean. “You broke it. You fix it. I’m done.” Cas turned and started walking again, stomping up the porch stairs.

“Cas, please. I didn’t mean it like that.” Cas looked down the steps, where Dean stood, looking completely lost. “I just - I just want you to come home.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re - you’re _family_ , Cas. You belong with us.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Cas thought for a moment, Dean watching him with bated breath. Finally, he said, “I have a home here. I have my own rooms, I have three hot meals a day, I have friends who respect me and appreciate my presence.”

Lydia and Charlie stepped out onto the porch silently.

“That’s - that’s great, Cas. It is. But you should - you should come home. Ok?”

“No. No, you should leave. Leave, Dean. I’m staying.” He turned on his heel and went into the house, shutting the door firmly behind him. Cas walked across the floor to the door to his own rooms and shut that as well. He sat on his bed and lifted the German Bible from the nightstand, laying it open on his lap.

He was still staring blankly at the book when the Impala drove away.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kannscht du Pennsilfaanisch Deitsch schwetzer? - Can you speak Pennsylvania Dutch? (PA dutch is one of the names of the language the Amish speak. It's a mix of German and English and can be very confusing to both German and English speakers. It's also been verbally passed down and it can be very difficult to find accurate translations, something I found out the hard way writing this fic. I was lucky that the inspiration for Lydia Beiler was so kind and willing to help me with a lot of it!)  
> Soll ich ihn wegschicken? - Shall I send him away?  
> Neh. - No


	5. It Always Leads Me Here

His boots must have frozen to the ground. That was the only reason he couldn’t move, right? Dean looked up at Lydia, hating the expression on her face. It was far too close to pity for his taste. 

“You should probably go,” she murmured. 

“Is there a motel or something nearby?” Charlie asked. 

Dean couldn’t hear Lydia’s answer over the roaring in his ears. He felt hysteria building inside of him, but he tamped it down and shoved it away. 

“Dean?” Gently tugging on his sleeve, Charlie pulled him in the direction of the Impala. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“Ok,” he whispered, blindly stumbling after her. He could barely see, but for the life of him, couldn’t figure out why his vision was so blurry. Charlie led him to the passenger side of the car and reached into his coat pocket for the keys. She opened the door and steered him into the seat. 

Charlie drove them away from the Beilers, casting worried looks Dean’s way when she thought he wasn’t looking. She found a place not far from the farm that rented cabins on Rushford Lake. Luckily, with it being the off season, there was one available, although if Dean had been able to react to anything, he’d have complained about the price. 

“C’mon,” Charlie urged, “let’s go in. I’ll get you something to drink and we’ll see about dinner, ok?” 

Dean nodded, and let Charlie drag him inside. It had started raining, icy cold drops slipping down the back of his collar and into his shirt. He dropped on the first thing he found, a kitchen chair, and stared out the window, barely registering the thump of Charlie setting their duffels on the ground. 

“Oh good, there’s a nice little kitchen. It looks like there’s a general store up the road a little bit. I’m going to go get something for us to eat. Will you be ok?”

“Yeah,” Dean muttered, his voice rough. 

Charlie rested a hand on his head. “Everything’s going to be fine,” she soothed. “I promise.”

Biting his bottom lip, Dean nodded. He didn’t trust himself to talk. Vaguely aware of Charlie leaving, Dean stared out into the rain. 

_ You should leave. _

_ Leave, Dean. _

“Fuck.” Eyes burning, Dean dropped his face into his hands. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He willed the tears away, pressing his fingers against his eyes so hard it hurt. He sucked in deep lungfuls of air, doing everything he could to breathe and calm down. 

Cas had looked so angry. Like stone, unyielding and furious. And Dean had just stood there, frozen, unable to get words out of his mouth in the face of Castiel’s anger. Dropping his hands, Dean looked around the cabin, finally realizing how cold it was as he shivered. Pulling himself from the chair, he located the thermostat in the chilly cabin and turned on the heat. There was one small bedroom with a king sized bed, but the sofa in the living room/kitchen area appeared to be a pull out. There were gas fireplaces in both rooms, and Dean switched them on to help warm the joint up. It was nice little place, all cute and rustic, and Dean would have probably appreciated it more if he hadn’t been buckling under the weight of his guilt. 

Eventually wandering back into the bedroom, Dean flopped face first into the middle of the bed. He was exhausted and drained and just totally, completely done. Weirdly, he must have dozed off, because the next thing he was aware of was a soothing hand carding through his hair. 

“Mmmf.”

“I feel you,” Charlie said, amusement in her voice. “I’ve got dinner, come eat.”

“Not hungry,” Dean mumbled. 

“Oh, Dean, c’mon. I know you’re upset, I do. And I get it. But you’re not doing anyone any favors by starving yourself. I’ve spent pretty much this entire trip trying to force you to eat and I’m tired. You have to eat. Please? It’s just canned beef stew and grilled cheeses, ok? Please come eat.”

Dean didn’t answer her. His eyes were burning again, and her kindness cut him deep. He didn’t deserve kindness of any sort, not after what he’d done. 

“Dean, it’s ok. It’s ok, calm down.”

Calm down? He was calm. Or not - Dean realized he was openly sobbing into his pillow. When the hell had that happened?

“It’s ok, ssh, it’s ok, just let it out. Let it go,” Charlie rubbed his neck while Dean cried and cried. He didn’t even really know what he was crying about, other than the fact he’d fucked up two of the people that mattered most to him. 

Huh. Guess he did have a lot to cry about. And since he’d been doing everything he could to keep the tears at bay since he’d dragged a dying Sam out of that rotting church, Dean guessed he was overdue for a solid breakdown. 

It took him a while to calm, but Charlie was there through all of it, rubbing his back and murmuring comforting words. When the tears finally subsided, Charlie left his side but returned a minute later, warm washcloth in hand. He sat up and she wiped his face like he was a little boy. He stared at her in wonder. 

“Why’re you still here?” he asked softly. 

“Just because the people in our lives make a mistake now and then doesn’t mean we stop loving them, or stop caring. I’m your friend, Dean. I’d like to think I’m more of a sister -”

“You are.”

She smiled. “And family looks after each other.” She set the washcloth aside and knelt at his feet, unlacing his boots and pulling them off. Charlie stood and crossed the room to Dean’s duffle, pulling out sweats and a hoodie. “Here. Go change,” she told him, handing over the clothes. “I’m going to reheat dinner and make some hot cocoa and we’ll watch Dr. Sexy reruns on my tablet.” 

Dean took the clothes from her, his eyes misting over again. “Thanks,” he whispered. 

She smiled and went back out to the kitchen. 

Stripping off his jeans, Dean tossed them over his duffel. He tugged on the sweats and replaced his flannel shirt with the hoodie. Pulling back the covers, he settled in the bed, waves of exhaustion washing over him. It was just too damn much, and it would’ve been nice to stop the train and check out for awhile. But Dean’s life just kept on coming, and he’d either have to stand up and deal with it, or let the whole thing crash down around him. 

“Ok, look at this nifty bed tray thing I found!” Charlie bustled back into the room, food tray held aloft and her tablet tucked under her arm. She’d changed into sweats and a hoodie too. Dean smiled and held the blankets back for her. “Nice and warm in here now,” she said, settling next to Dean. “Ok, I brought the grilled cheeses but put the stew in the fridge. I got hot chocolate, goldfish crackers, and pie. If I knew how to make your mom’s soup, I would have.”

“You’re the best, Charlie,” Dean smiled, lifting a wedge of grilled cheese from a plate. 

“I try.” She fiddled with her tablet while Dean munched. “What’s your favorite season?”

“Mmm. Probably five, and I love that episode where Dr. Sexy and Dr. Maxwell fall into bed together. That’s a good one.” Dean blushed furiously, realizing what he’d just said. 

Charlie raised an eyebrow. “So you like the season they finally revealed that Dr. Sexy was bi? Interesting.”

“Shuddup.” 

Giggling a bit, Charlie started the episode, and they worked their way through the food on the tray while watching Dr. Sexy flirt his way into the scrub pants of Dr. Blake Maxwell. Dean watched with rapt attention, even though he’d seen the episode several times. He’d be lying if he didn’t admit that it was one of his favorites. 

“Are you bi?” Charlie asked as the credits rolled. 

“Uh -” Dean blinked. 

“I mean, I’ve always kinda suspected anyway - what with my fabulous gaydar and your fashion sense alone.”

“That’s a stereotype.”

“Yeah, but - I mean, are you?”

Dean sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Do we have to do this?”

“I’m just curious. Because if you are,” Charlie tapped her chin thoughtfully. “It would explain a lot about this whole Cas situation.”

“Dammit.” Dean’s shoulders slumped. “And the night was going so well.” Might as well come clean. “Yes. I mean, there’s been guys in the past but…” he trailed off. 

“Ok.” Charlie set the food tray on the floor and rolled to her side to face Dean. “Just answer me this,” she squeezed Dean’s hand. “Are you in love with Cas?”

“I don’t think - I mean I don’t -” Dean closed his eyes and rolled onto his back. “He means a lot to me. He saved me, he saved me when no when else could. I don’t deserve to have him in my life, to be honest. All I do is expect him to be at my beck and call and fix my mistakes and -” Dean took a deep, shuddering breath. “And I miss him when he’s not around. I miss his weirdness and lack of personal space and - and -” a tear rolled down his cheek and puddled in his ear. “Oh fuck.”

Charlie covered his hand with hers. “That’s the crux of it, isn’t it? It wasn’t just about keeping him safe. You miss him because you’re in love with him.”

“No I -”

“Dean, it’s ok. It is. It’s ok for you to love Cas.”

“Charlie, I can’t keep a relationship alive to save my ass.”

“First time for everything.”

“He doesn’t want me.” Dean swiped at a few more tears. “You saw him. He told me to leave.”

“Did you tell him you wanted him to come home?”

“Yeah, of course I did, but - fuck, Charlie. You know what I said to him? I said I put an angel in Sam and I needed his help. He told me all I want him for is a tool to fix my mistakes. Fuck, fuck, fuck!” 

Charlie sat up, pulling Dean’s hand to her chest. “Then you go back up there tomorrow and you tell him the truth. Tell him you’re in love with him.”

“I can’t. He’s happy.”

“He’s not happy! He’s trying, yes, but did you see his face when he walked back in the house? Dude was on autopilot. I think he was expecting you to come after him and you just turned around and left. How can two people that love each other so much be so fucking dumb?”

“You think Cas loves me?”

“Yeah, I do. Look at everything he’s given up for you. You don’t do that for someone you don’t care about.” Charlie flopped back down on the bed and set her tablet aside. “Come here.” She manhandled Dean until he was laying in her arms. The touch of her hand stroking his back was wonderful and soothing. 

“This is the chick-flickiest thing I’ve ever -”

“Shut up. You’re the most touch starved motherfucker I’ve ever met and you need this.”

“Ok,” he acquiesced. It did feel nice, after all, and he felt his eyelids get heavier. “What if I tell him and he still tells me to leave?” he asked in a small voice. 

“Better to try and get told no then not to try and live your life never knowing. Answer this honestly. Can you see yourself happy in the future if Cas isn’t there?”

Dean thought about it. When he pictured his future, it always involved the people he loved present in his home, with Dean providing delicious meals and keeping his family safe and close. He closed his eyes and imagined the big table in the center of the bunker’s kitchen. There was Sam, digging into a salad and reading a book, occasionally laughing at something Dean said. Charlie, tapping madly on a laptop while sucking down energy drinks like her life depended on it. Kevin, bitching at Dean for forgetting his tofu dogs at the store, but generally pleasant and happy, the pinched look from staring at tablets erased from his face forever. Himself, a cold beer and piece of pie, his family safe and happy around him. And Cas, a burger on the table in front of him, a cat curled in his lap, and his fingers wrapped around Dean’s. 

“Oh god, I’m in love with him.”

“Yup.”

“Charlie, I have to tell him. I have to go up there and -”

“And we will. But it’s late. And the Amish go to sleep early. So tomorrow, ok? Get some sleep.”

“Ok.” 

Charlie reached for the light behind her, shutting it off while Dean stayed where he was. Being curled up with his best friend was definitely not the worst thing in the world, and Dean dozed off. 

He slept the entire night. 

* * *

 

Castiel did not sleep. He paced the floor. He tried to read. He drank several cups of tea. Dean’s face would not leave his mind. He’d looked so sad, devastated actually, and Cas had thought it would bring him some satisfaction to see Dean unhappy, but it didn’t. It just made him feel worse. 

Frustrated, he dropped into the rocking chair in his living room, propping his socked feet on the edge of the heat stove. 

“Do you know I can hear you pacing down here?”

“Oh, Lydia. I’m so sorry. I tried to be quiet.”

“ _ Vas is letz, _ Castiel? What interrupts your sleep?”

“After this afternoon, you have to ask? I never expected him to come here. I don’t even know how he found me.”

Lydia made a little clucking noise. “I think you hurt him, Cas. He looked very sad when he left.”

“He hurt me first!” Cas sprung from the chair and resumed his pacing. “He asked me to leave, now he wants me to come back to help him with his brother. That’s all I am to him, the tool that fixes everything. I’m tired, Lydia. I’m tired of being a commodity.”

“And are you sure -”

“Yes. It was the first thing out of his mouth.”

“But you didn’t let him explain. He stood at the bottom of the porch steps and tried to tell you something, but you went into the house. Who knows what he might have said had you let him continue. I assure you, Castiel, he was near tears when he returned to the car and Charlie drove them away.”

“Charlie was driving? Are you sure?”

“ _ Yah _ .”

“That is unusual. Dean doesn’t like others to drive, not even his brother. I wonder - you said he was upset?”

“I would say more like devastated.”

He let his body fall back into the rocker, drained and exhausted. “He had more to say to me.”

“I believe so,  _ yah _ .” Lydia reached across and rested her hand on Cas’s. “I don’t imagine they’ve gotten very far. Charlie asked after lodging and I told her about the rental cabins on the lake that are empty this time of the year.”

“What are you saying?” 

“Maybe seek him out. Let him finish explaining?”

“And if he says something I don’t want to hear?”

Leaning back in her rocking chair, Lydia toyed with the folds of her long nightgown. “You love him,” she said simply, stating it as fact. 

Cas sighed. “I do. I have for an incredibly long time. But I don’t think he feels the same. For one, I’m not a woman.”

“ _ Ach _ , Dean does not favor men?”

“No - at least -” Cas struggled to put his thoughts into words. “I have no reason to believe he does.”

“Have you ever asked?”

“No -”

“Perhaps you should?” Lydia smiled encouragingly. “Would it not be better to know one way or the other, rather than always wondering?”

“I - I -” Cas sucked in a breath. “What do I do, Lydia?”

“Go talk to him. After chores, hitch up the buggy and go. I’ll give you directions to the cabins. It’s not far.”

“And what do I say to him?” Cas whispered, eyes filling. 

“Tell him the truth,  _ Liewer Herz _ . Tell him what he means to you.”

“What if he rejects me?” Cas asked softly, heart in his throat. “What if he doesn’t want me? I can’t - I don’t think I can just be his friend if -”

“Better to know. Love is risk, Castiel. Even amongst the People, love is risk. But it’s the risk most worth taking, sweet boy.” She squeezed his hand. “Be brave, my Castiel.”

Cas’s eyes burned with unshed tears. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You can. I know it.” Lydia stood and pressed a kiss on the top of Cas’s head. “Try and sleep. You need it. Tomorrow, finish wrapping the hives and go find your Dean. Alright?”

He nodded, not trusting his voice. Lydia left on silent feet, leaving Cas to stare out into a moonlit night, thoughts in turmoil.

* * *

 

It was just after eight when Dean pulled the Impala into the Bielers’ driveway. He’d left Charlie behind at the cabin, protesting that it was too early to go. Dean pointed out that the Amish rise early, and that he needed to get it over with, already sure that Cas would reject him. 

“Hullo,” a man with a black felt hat waved. “Something I can do for you, friend?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m looking for Cas.”

The man frowned. “He’s out by the hives. I can show you,” he offered. 

“I know where it is. I was here yesterday. Thanks, uh -”

“Jacob Bieler. I assume that you’re Dean? Lydia mentioned you yesterday.”

“Yeah,” Dean held out a hand and Jacob shook it heartily.

“Well, go on then. I’ve got chores,” he said shortly, turning and heading off to the barn. 

Dean stood there for a moment, gathering his thoughts, then turned and walked up the hill towards the hives. With every step his heart pounded harder, his skin feeling flushed despite the chill in the air. He could just make out Cas in the early morning light, tar paper and thick twine in hand as he wrapped a beehive. 

He looked up just as Dean crested the hill, eyes widening comically. “Dean,” he murmured, setting the tar paper aside. “You’re here.”

“Yeah, I uh - I mean,” Dean shoved his hands into his pockets. “If you don’t want me here, I can go, but I really want to talk to you. What I said yesterday,” he pulled his hands back out, not even realizing he was gesturing with them. “I don’t see you as a tool. I didn’t come up here just to get you to fix Sam. I want you to come home. I miss you, Cas,” he said, ignoring the pathetic break in his voice. 

“Why didn’t you just start with that yesterday?” Cas asked as he drew closer. “It sounded like -”

“I know what it sounded like. It sounded like my selfish ass going, hey I broke something, come fix it for me. I fucked up, Cas, I know that. I wish I’d have never asked you to leave in the first place. Should have told you ‘bout Zeke from the start. I’m sorry. I don’t know how else to say it.” 

“I forgive you.”

“You do?”

“I do.” Cas reached out and rested a hand on Dean’s left arm. “You are my friend. Sometimes friends hurt each other.”

“Yeah,” Dean murmured. His skin was hot where Cas’s hand rested, creating a wave of nostalgia for the old handprint that used to be there. “What if - uh -” He ran a hand through his hair, shifting his balance from foot to foot. “Shit. I’m not good with stuff like this, don’t know how to put what I’m thinking into words. I know I screwed up, Cas. I know that. And I’m glad you forgive me, I am. I’m glad we’re friends, just -” Dean took a breath. “What if I felt um, y’know, more um - um-”

“Felt what?” Cas’s hand slipped from Dean’s arm and he tilted his head curiously. The gesture was so unmistakably Cas, Dean felt his throat close with emotion. “You look scared.”

“I am scared,” Dean said helplessly. 

“What are you afraid of?”

Dean sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. His eyes burned and he could feel the blush building on his cheeks. He wanted to just say it, just open his mouth and say it, but he couldn’t form the words. Dean blinked, and a few tears slipped out. 

“Dean? Why are you crying? What are you afraid of?” Cas asked again, and the first word that came to Dean’s mind was the one he blurted out. 

“Rejection.”

Cas’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped, and he stared at him in the way that used to make Dean think he was staring at his very soul. But then, Castiel did something completely unexpected. He reached out and cupped Dean’s jaw, sliding his thumb over Dean’s bottom lip. “You don’t have to be afraid,” he said, voice going impossibly deeper. 

“Cas, I - I -” Beautiful blue eyes sparkled in the early morning sunshine. Dean swallowed and let the words come. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice shaking. 

And then that hand on his jaw was pulling him forward, closer to Cas, and the only thing that registered in Dean’s overloaded brain was that he was being kissed. Cas slipped the hand that wasn’t cupping his face around Dean’s lower back, pressing Dean close to him as he deepened the kiss and holy shit, how had his awkward, wonderful, nerdy little friend learned to kiss like that?

Dean let a moan slip as he tossed his arms around Cas’s neck. “Fuck,” he whispered between kisses, letting himself get lost in the pressure and taste of Cas’s lips on his. 

When they finally pulled apart, a soft pink blush lit the top of Cas’s beautiful cheekbones, his eyes bright and twinkling. He rested their foreheads together. “I love you too, Dean. I have for a very long time.”

“Cas,” Dean half sobbed his name, burying his face in Cas’s shoulder. “Please come home,” he begged. 

“Of course,” Cas murmured, kissing the side of Dean’s head.

Words utterly failed Dean as he clung to Cas. He didn’t have anything left to say, all he could do was just stand there with his face pressed to Cas’s neck and... _ feel _ .

“Come back tonight, around five.”

“What?” He straightened.

Cas’s eyes were merry, a beautiful smile on his mouth. “I need to finish winterizing the hives. I promised Lydia I would. I need to see what else Jacob would like me to attend to. I need to pack. Come back at five with Charlie, and we’ll eat with the Beilers. I know they won’t mind.” He lifted Dean’s fingers to his lips and kissed the tips, the gesture damn near making Dean swoon like a Victorian lady. “And then, then you will take me home.”

“Ok. Whatever you want, Cas, I swear you’ll have it.”

“All I want is you,” Cas smiled, pulling Dean closer again. “Just you.” He kissed Dean again, slow, sweet, and deep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vas is letz? - What is wrong?  
> Liewer Herz - Dear Heart


	6. Feeling Your Heartbeat With Mine

Dean floated through the door of the cabin, more than aware of the goofy grin on his face. He hadn’t been able to stop smiling since he left Cas at the farm. 

“I’m guessing it went well, then?” Charlie grinned over her laptop. 

“Yeah. Yeah, it did,” Dean dropped into the chair opposite and rested his chin on his hand. “We’re going up to the Beilers’ at five for dinner and to pick up Cas.”

“Ah, that’s great. That’s awesome.” Charlie reached across the table and squeezed Dean’s hand. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you. I mean that. I owe you one, Charlie,” Dean said seriously. 

“Aww, I knew you had it in you, Handmaiden.”

Dean blushed, felt the heat travel across his cheeks. “Thanks.” 

“So, tell me all about it. Did you get kissed?”

The blush deepened. 

“Oh, you did. You so did. This is epic. E-p-i-c!”

“Yeah, yeah, have your fun at my expense.”

“You make it so easy.” Charlie chuckled, squeezing Dean’s hand. “Are you happy?”

Dean couldn’t help the big smile that slid across his face. “Extremely.”

* * *

 

Cas helped Lydia prepare dinner and set the table, all the while keeping an ear out for the Impala. It was five on the dot when she pulled into the lane, and Cas was already on the porch when Dean and Charlie opened their doors. 

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said shyly, cheeks pinking. 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas smiled back. He kissed Dean’s cheek when the other man got to the top of the porch, then turned to pull Charlie into his arms. 

“Oh, you give fantastic hugs!” Charlie exclaimed, hugging him back. 

“Thank you. Lydia has dinner ready. I just wanted to explain that when Jacob bows his head, it’s for silent prayer. You’ll know he’s finished when he grunts, and then it is acceptable to eat. Also, Amish men burp their appreciation. I just thought you should know.”

“You’re amazing, Cas,” Dean said. “Thanks.”

“Of course. Come, let’s eat.”

Dinner was a pleasant and comfortable affair. Dean found Lydia’s cooking to be delicious, showering her with compliments on the tenderness of the pork roast and the savory potatoes. He all but cried when Lydia offered him three varieties of pie, and Castiel didn’t miss the indulgent look Lydia gave Dean as she cut him a wedge of each. 

Charlie spent most of the meal smiling at Cas and Dean in turn, clearly pleased to see her friend so happy. When dinner was over, she offered to help Lydia clean up. The men were sent to the sitting room to sit, despite Cas’s objections that he should help Lydia clean up. 

“Go on,  _ Liewer Herz _ , Charlie will help me  _ redd up _ . Go sit with your sweetheart.” Lydia physically shoved Castiel out of the kitchen. He chuckled to himself, turning to head to the sitting room. 

“And what are your intentions with Castiel?” he heard Jacob ask in his deep voice. 

Leaning against the wall, Castiel eavesdropped. 

“I uh, well sir -” Dean stumbled over his words. “I don’t know that I have any intentions, so to speak. Cas has spent a lot of time being what people wanted him to be and I think I’m just going to let him do what he wants. If anything, I guess my intentions are just to be there for him.”

Cas’s heart warmed, and he smiled at Dean’s words and the way Jacob was acting like a protective father. 

“Do you love him?”

“With everything in me,” Dean responded, his voice strong and sure.

“Alright then, I guess that’s good enough for me.” 

Walking through the door into the living room, Cas smiled as Dean’s eyes lit up. “It’s good enough for me, too.”

* * *

 

Loaded with pies, jam, a case of honey, and four loaves of homemade bread - not to mention two new pairs of Lydia’s hand knit gloves - Cas left the Beilers’ farm behind, and more than a few tears were shed as he left his friends with a promise to write often. 

He sat on the edge of the bed in the little cabin Dean and Charlie had rented, looking pensive as Dean stepped out of the bathroom. Charlie’s gleeful laughter traveled through the closed bedroom door as she likely watched something silly on the internet. 

“Hey. You ok?” Dean asked, toweling at his hair. 

“I am,” Cas smiled, openly staring at Dean’s bare chest. “Charlie and I were wondering about sleeping arrangements. She offered to take the couch, but I wasn’t sure you’d want to share with me.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to share with you?” Dean asked, stepping closer. “We’re a thing now, y’know?”

“I don’t want to rush you into -”

“After everything we’ve been through in six years, I don’t think anything would be considered rushing.” 

“I suppose not,” Cas chuckled. “Alright then.”

Dean tugged back the blankets and settled into bed while Cas stripped down to his tee and boxers. He lifted the other side of the blankets and crawled inside, settling down while Dean shut off the light. 

Side by side, they lay in the darkness. Dean tried to think of something to say; it seemed utterly profound to be lying beside the man that had pulled him out of Hell so many years before. He felt like they’d said all there was to say, but at the same time, hadn’t said much at all. 

There was a hesitant brush against his hand, and he turned his palm up, letting Cas weave their fingers together. Sparks shot up his arm. They were  _ holding hands _ . Cas was holding Dean’s hand for the first time ever. His heart pounded and his cheeks warmed, and he couldn’t help the easy smile that flitted over his face. He squeezed Cas’s hand gently. 

“How did you find me?” Cas asked softly. 

“Uh, kinda by accident. I mean, we were looking,” Dean clarified. “Charlie tracked you as far as Erie, Pennsylvania, but then you didn’t buy any more bus tickets. I guess your money ran out.”

“It did.” Dean flinched and his heart filled with shame, but Cas squeezed his hand reassuringly. “Please continue.”

“Ok. Well we told Sam we were taking a road trip to Cleveland to go to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Which, by the way, I’d like to stop there on the way home. Always wanted to see it and I kinda owe Sam a Pearl Jam shirt. Uh, if that’s ok -”

“I’d love to,” Cas assured him.

“Cool. Anyway, we had to tell him something that wouldn’t clue Zeke in. We got to Erie and spent two days looking for you.” Dean’s voice was small and shaky as he told Cas, “I was so scared. We couldn’t find you and I was afraid something had happened. After April…” Dean trailed off. 

“But you found me after all,” Cas said, rubbing his thumb over the top of Dean’s hand. 

“Yeah. Pure dumb luck. Charlie and I were eating breakfast and this trucker was telling his buddy that this guy had fallen asleep on his load and rode better than a hundred miles up to an Amish farm. He mentioned the name “Steve Winchester” and I knew it had to be you.” Dean rolled onto his side, propping himself up on an elbow. He could just barely make out Cas’s handsome face in the dark of the room. “Winchester, huh?”

“It was all I could think of in the moment.”

Dean chuckled lightly before leaning in and capturing Cas’s lips with his own. He kissed him slowly, sweetly. Dean pulled away slightly. “I like Winchester,” he whispered against Cas’s lips, “but when Charlie makes you a fake ID, how about Castiel Winchester instead of Steve?”

“I’d like that,” Cas murmured. He reached up with his free hand and pulled Dean back down against his lips. 

Dean melted against him, putty in Cas’s hands as he deepened the kiss, teasing the seam of Dean’s lips with his tongue. Dean let him in as his free hand slid under Cas’s shirt, traveling up his side to thumb at his nipple. 

Castiel gasped. 

“I’m sorry. Am I - too fast?”

“As you said earlier, six years later, nothing is too fast. You surprised me. In a good way.” 

“Oh,” Dean smiled against his lips. “I’m full of surprises,” Dean said sexily. “Want me to show you a few more?”

Cas flipped Dean onto his back, covering him with his own body. “I’m also full of surprises. How about I show you some instead?”

“Fuck, Cas -”

“Mmm,” he leaned in and kissed Dean again, but with a passion Dean didn’t know the former angel was capable of and he quickly felt himself getting swept away. Dean tossed his arms around Cas’s neck and rolled his hips upward. Cas let out a low moan at the feel of Dean’s hardness pressed against his own. “Dean,” he whispered, ducking his head to press kisses along the column of his neck. His hands wandered, sweeping up the sides of Dean’s chest before cupping both sides of his face and diving in for a fiery kiss. When he’d apparently drunk his fill of Dean’s lips, he ducked his head to ravage his neck, and Dean’s heart damn near pounded out of his chest. 

“Fuck, Cas, where did you learn all this?”

“Dean,” Cas said breathlessly between kisses, “I’m thousands of years old. I’ve been watching humanity for eons. Did you think I learned nothing of copulation and fornication in that time?” He gently bit the hinge of Dean’s jaw, and any higher thought processes Dean might have had dissolved into nothing. 

Cas thrust his hips downward, dragging his erection against Dean’s. The friction between them, enhanced by the dry rub of the fabric of their boxers, lit Dean up and he couldn’t help the moan that tumbled from his mouth. 

“Cas, we should - should -” Dean slid a hand between them and tugged at the waistband of Cas’s boxers. “Take these off.”

Cas let Dean slide the boxers off his slim hips and pull the tee off, returning the favor a moment later. The first press of totally bare skin had them gasping into each other’s mouths, and Dean would swear stars exploded in his vision. He was powerless to hold back the sounds that tumbled from his mouth, and when Cas clapped a hand over his lips, it only fueled Dean’s arousal. 

“Have to be quiet,” Cas growled in his ear. “Charlie’s right outside our door.” He pushed his hips down into Dean’s as he said this, and Dean’s eyes rolled back in his head. Cas’s hand was still over his mouth, and in a moment of daring, Dean’s tongue darted out, licking between Cas’s beautiful long fingers. 

It was Cas’s turn to groan, and Dean wished the lights were on so he could watch his angel’s eyes darken with arousal. He was overwhelmed with the urge to see Castiel. “Turn on the light,” Dean whispered. “Wanna see you.”

Cas moved off him just enough to turn the lamp on, settling back over Dean’s prone form. There was a light blush painting his beautiful cheekbones, and his eyes were dark, hooded. 

“You’re so -” Dean choked on the words, overcome with emotion. “Cas, I - I -”

“I know,” Cas murmured, “I know, Dean.” He claimed Dean’s mouth again, and the frantic movements faded into something sweeter. Cas still moved against Dean, erections pressed close, but there was none of the urgent thrusting, and when they both tumbled over the edge, it was in between breathless kisses. 

Neither one moved. Cas wrapped his arms around Dean and pulled him as close as possible, burying his face in Dean’s neck. Their chests rose and fell as one. 

“I love you,” Dean whispered. “I love you so much, Cas, I -” The first tear slipped out unexpectedly. 

“Dean?” Cas asked, his voice tinged with worry. “Is something wrong?”

“No, I just -” another tear slipped out. “I just - I’m overwhelmed. I don’t - I’m overwhelmed,” he finished weakly, aware that more tears were dripping down his face. “I wanted this for so long, Cas. So long. And I didn’t even - I was too scared to even admit it to myself. And I’m still scared. I’m still so fucking scared.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Everyone leaves me.”

“Not me. Never me. Not ever again, I swear it. Good things do happen,” he murmured.

“You said that to me the first time we met,” Dean said. “Well, the first time I remember us meeting. I wish I could remember the real first time.” He’d often wondered why he could remember every ugly moment of Hell, but couldn’t remember the moment Castiel came for him. 

“We fought for a long time to get to you. Things were...difficult. The demons knew why we’d come and you were quite the prize. They had no intention of letting you go easily, and Alastair had you hidden in the deepest recesses.” Cas raised his head and kissed Dean. “But we prevailed. And the light of your soul was so bright - it penetrated Hell’s darkness and led us right to you. It was Balthazar and I at the end and honestly, it was almost Balthazar that rescued you. But the demons overwhelmed us and he pushed me onward.”

“I was almost rescued by Balthazar,” Dean mused. “That would have been...interesting.”

“He liked you, you know? You and Sam both. Balthazar always pretended otherwise, but he found the pair of you to be quite entertaining and rather resourceful. His words.” Cas chuckled. He laid his head back on Dean’s shoulder.

“Wow.” Dean was quiet for a moment, deep in thought, as he absentmindedly trailed his fingers up and down Cas’s spine. “What happened when you found me?” Dean asked softly.

“You were afraid. You tried to hide while Alastair attempted to fight me off. I reached for you, and with the first touch of my grace, your soul latched on so tight, I don’t think anything would have caused you to let go. And then Balthazar, the rest of my Garrison, and I destroyed everything between us and your freedom. I held your broken body and mended every last wound and scar. I’m sure you remember the rest.”

Dean felt his eyes fill with tears again. “And have I ever said thank you? Have I ever -”

Propping himself up on an elbow, Cas smiled down at Dean, his pretty blue eyes twinkling. “Yes. You’ve said thank you in so many ways, Dean. Don’t ever doubt that for a moment.” Cas claimed his lips with the sweetest, softest kiss, before rolling off of Dean and getting up, the evidence of what they’d done white and shiny on his abdomen. He stood beside the bed, utterly unashamed of his nakedness or the come on his chest, and held out a hand to Dean. “Let’s shower.”

Dean nodded and let Cas help him up. Cas started the water in the bathroom, pulling Dean into the stall when it was ready. They stood together under the hot stream, wrapped in each other’s arms and trading slow, sweet kisses. 

“I love you,” Cas whispered in Dean’s ear as they lingered, water streaming down their backs. He trailed his fingers down Dean’s back as he pulled him impossibly closer. Dean let himself be held, let himself have the love and comfort Cas was giving him. 

He yawned. 

“Tired?”

“Yeah.”

“We should go to bed.”

“Mmm,” Dean mumbled, leaning forward and kissing Cas's forehead. “ _ Baby, I'm amazed at the way you love me all the time,”  _ Dean sang softly. _ “And maybe I'm afraid of the way I love you. Maybe I'm amazed at the way you pulled me out of time, you hung me on the line. Maybe I'm amazed at the way I really need you.” _

Cas laid his head on Dean’s shoulder and smiled against his neck. Emboldened, Dean continued. “ _ Baby, I'm a man, maybe I'm a lonely man, who's in the middle of something, that he doesn't really understand. Baby, I'm a man, and maybe you're the only angel who could ever help me. Baby, won't you help me to understand?”  _ Dean giggled. “I changed woman to angel ‘cause I’m awesome.” Cas raised his head to smile at him. 

“Aren’t you clever?” Cas said. He turned Dean and pushed him against the water heated tile. “You are brilliant, wonderful, beautiful,” he claimed Dean’s lips in a passionate kiss, “and you’re mine. All mine.”

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean breathed.  

It was a while before they made it back to bed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Redd up - sort of Amish slang for clean up


	7. I Want You To Show Me

Cas was up with the sun, despite their late night. After he and Dean had pleasured each other in the shower, they’d gone back to bed, wrapped around each other under the covers. They talked for hours, Dean finally falling asleep mid-sentence. 

Cas watched as the room gradually lightened. Dean was laying with his back to Cas, arms wrapped around a spare pillow. Smiling, Cas pressed a kiss to his freckled shoulder. Dean made a soft little sound, rolling over and hiding his face in Castiel’s chest. Adjusting the blankets, he pulled Dean closer, burying his face in soft, fluffy hair he’d personally shampooed the night before. His heart bubbled with affection. 

So this is what true happiness felt like. 

He could hear Charlie moving around outside their door. Maybe it wasn't as early as he thought. A few moments later, the smell of bacon and coffee drifted through the door. 

“Smells good,” Dean mumbled. 

“I believe Charlie is making us breakfast.”

“She’s awesome.” Dean propped himself up on one elbow and squinted at Cas. “Like my sister. Don’t think we’d be here now if…” Dean trailed off as a look of shame crossed his face. 

“None of that,” Cas told him, cupping his chin. “It’s over and we move forward. Alright?”

“Ok,” Dean said softly. 

Cas pulled him in for a sweet kiss. “Let’s get up. I’m ready to head home and take care of the situation with Sam. You?”

“Yeah, I’m ready.” Dean kissed him once more before throwing back the covers. He cursed the cold floors as he dressed, Cas watching him fondly. 

They left the bedroom together, holding hands as they told Charlie good morning, and by nine they were on the road, heading for Cleveland and eventually, Kansas. 

* * *

 

After three days on the road that included Dean singing sappy hits from Foreigner, Journey, The Beatles, and Led Zeppelin while he drove one handed (his other hand never really left Cas’s); an amazing trip to the Hall of Fame (where Dean bought anything Pearl Jam related he could find, including two moose sized tees and a hoodie); at least two stops at Skyline Chili and one very brief visit to Chicago for deep dish pizza (it was easier to eat without Death staring at him from across the table), Charlie, Cas, and Dean arrived back at the bunker. 

“I don’t know how this is gonna go,” Dean told Cas and Charlie. “He might freak out. This could end up going badly, and I think I’d just like you guys to wait in the car while -”

“Nope,” Charlie said, opening the door. “It’s eviction day for an angel who’s overstayed his welcome and you’re not going to deal with that alone.”

“We’ll handle this together,” Cas added. “All of us.”

Dean swallowed. “Ok,” he acquiesced, following Cas and Charlie as they led the way through the corridors of the bunker. 

Sam was in the library, and he looked up as the three of them entered the room. “Cas!” His eyes lit up as Cas crossed the room to him, Sam shooting out of his chair to wrap his friend in a hug. “Dude, it’s so good to see you!” He looked over at Dean. “Got your head out of your ass, I see.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean shrugged helplessly. Dean saw the flash of blue in Sam’s eyes, even if no one else caught it. 

“Can I talk to you alone?” Sam asked, his tone carefully nonchalant. Dean was pretty sure he was the only one that realized Sam wasn’t in the driver’s seat. 

“Speak, Ezekiel. If that’s really you.” Cas glared across the library table, his posture and demeanor every bit the angel he’d once been. 

“Castiel,” Ezekiel shook his head. “If I leave Sam, he may not survive. Surely you don’t wish to see your friend dead?”

“We’ll handle it,” Dean said. “Just go.”

“And if I don’t?”

The three of them looked at each other. 

“We’ll find a way,” Dean said. “Cas has already warded the doors. You’re not getting out.” It was a bluff, one it would only take Zeke a second to figure out. 

“If I leave, and he dies, you’re to blame, Dean Winchester. Can you live with your brother’s blood on your hands?”

Cas’s hand slipped into his, squeezing reassuringly. “Better than this. Sam never wanted this. I never should have forced this on him. Leave, Zeke. You’re not wanted anymore.”

“I will tell him everything,” Zeke threatened. “How you tricked him -”

“Yeah, yeah. Just go.”

Zeke’s eyes glowed ferociously blue, and for a moment, Dean thought all was lost, that he, Cas, and Charlie were about to die at the hands of an angel. Instead, Zeke tilted Sam’s head back. A thin, bright strand of light slipped out Sam’s mouth, swirled in the air above them for a moment before dissipating into nothing. 

Sam collapsed. 

“Sammy!” Dean dashed across the floor and lifted his brother into his arms. “Wake up, Sam, c’mon.”

Sam’s eyelids fluttered briefly, then opened, and he stared up at Dean. He sat up slowly, and the look on his face made Dean’s heart sink. 

“How could you?” 

“Sammy -”

“No, Dean, how could you do this to me? After everything - you know how goddamned tired I am of people taking over my body! You - I -” Sam’s face was quickly turning red. “I can’t even look at you right now.” He pulled himself to his feet. “This is - I deserved better! Cas deserved better!” 

“I know, Sam, I was just so -”

“Scared of being alone. What else is new?” 

“Stop it.” Cas put himself between Dean, still pathetically huddled on the floor, and Sam, huge and angry. “I understand that you’re upset and you’ll need time. However, Dean feels guilty enough without you screaming at him.”

“Cas, c’mon, man! Can’t you see what’s right in front of you? He wouldn’t have kicked you out in the first place -”

“And you’d be dead.” 

Sam swallowed audibly. He snorted, an ugly sound. “You would take his side. What else is new?” He turned to Charlie. “The whole Cleveland thing was a lie. You knew?”

“Not completely. We did go in the end,” Charlie said lamely.  

“I’m the last to know. That figures.”

“Sammy, I know you’re pissed and you have every right - but how do you feel?”

“I’m fine. Perfectly fine. At least your fucking angel band aid did the trick.”

Dean felt like he’d been slapped. “Sammy -”

Holding up his hand to silence Dean, Sam turned on his heel and left the library, his door slamming a moment later. 

Dean flinched at the sound. 

“It’ll be ok,” Charlie said quietly, leaning down to kiss his head. “He’ll come around.”

“He hates me,” Dean whispered. 

Cas knelt in front of him. “He isn’t capable of hating you.” He cupped Dean’s cheek. “Charlie’s right, he’ll come around. Give him time.”

Dean nodded and let Cas pull him to his feet. Cas, Charlie, and Dean worked on getting the Impala unpacked. Cas put away the goodies the Beilers had sent them home with while Dean worked on getting laundry in the wash. 

Later that night, they lay together in Dean’s bed, softly talking while Cas stroked Dean’s hair. 

“No matter how angry Sam is now, I know he won’t stay angry. I truly don’t believe he’s capable of hating you. In some ways, I think your bond with Sam is as profound as your bond with me. Perhaps even more profound. Your souls will always be bound together in some way, you know?”

“They will?”

“Yes.” Cas kissed the top of Dean’s head. “He will forgive you.”

“I hope so.”

Silence settled over them like a warm blanket, and as Dean grew drowsier, wrapped in Cas’s arms, he wondered what he’d done to deserve this. How had he managed to gain the love of such a majestic creature? How had this beautiful man holding Dean in his arms chosen him, when he was a flawed human, prone to massive moments of absolute stupidity?

“I love you, Cas.” 

“As I you, beloved.”

Maybe, just for once, the world was on Dean Winchester’s side. 

* * *

 

Cas woke abruptly, unsure as to what had woken him. Opening his eyes, he found Sam standing in Dean’s doorway, awkwardly shifting his weight from foot to foot. 

“So I uh, I didn’t know this was a, a thing,” he started, gesturing awkwardly in the direction of the bed, “And I just kinda wanted to talk to Dean but -”

Dean sat up and the covers slid down his bare chest. 

“Oh my god, you’re naked,” Sam slapped a hand over his eyes. “Listen, I’ll make this fast - I’m mad. I’m going to be mad for a while, Dean, but I understand. Ok? I get it, and I’ve done some shitty things in the name of keeping you safe and we’ll talk about this later when you’re not naked and shit -” Sam turned around so he wasn't looking into the room anymore. “I don’t hate you. And you and Cas? Man, it’s about damn time. Ok. Ok, I’m going now. Bye.” He walked away. 

“Hey, Sam?”

“Yeah?” 

Dean nodded his head towards a bulging shopping bag sitting on the floor near the door. “Shit ton of Pearl Jam shit in that bag for you.”

“Oh sweet!” Sam reappeared in the doorway and snatched the bag and starting digging through it. 

“Hey, Sam?” Dean said again, a smile on his handsome face.

“Yeah?”

“Shut the door?”

“Oh. Oh right, sorry, my bad.” Sam made the mistake of looking back into the room. “Oh god, naked. I’m happy for you though!” He slammed the door shut. “About fucking time!” He yelled through the wood. “Charlie, get up, let’s go get pancakes!” His footsteps faded down the hallway and Dean giggled. 

“Such a baby.”

“Told you he didn’t hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah, Smuggy McSmuggerpants.” Dean looked at his lower half under the sheets. “Poor dude. We’re both still wearing boxers.”

“I didn’t see any reason to disabuse him of his assumption.”

Dean chuckled. “Uh, y’know. We could get naked.” He waggled his eyebrows as Cas.

“We could. But then what we would do?” 

“I have a few ideas.”

“Mmm,” Cas gathered Dean into his arms and kissed him. “Tell me about them.”

“I was thinking, you could uh -” Dean trailed off and when Cas pulled back to look at him, his cheeks were bright pink. 

“Tell me, Dean.”

“You could uh, you could.” Dean wrapped his arms around Cas’s neck and whispered in his ear. “You could top me.”

Cas kissed Dean’s neck. “Is that something you’ve been thinking about?”

“Mmhmm.”

Shifting his hold on Dean, he laid him out on the bed. Cas slid his fingers under the waistband of Dean’s boxers and tugged them off his hips. “Look how turned on you are already,” Cas smiled, gently dragging his fingers down Dean’s erection. “You’re beautiful.”

“Cas -”

“You are. You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He leaned in for a kiss. Cas trailed kisses down Dean’s neck, down his chest, stopping to pull a nipple into his mouth. Dean gasped as he lightly bit down and one of Dean’s hands nested in his hair. 

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean breathed, squirming a bit under Castiel’s ministrations. 

Smiling, Cas continued his path downward, kissing and nibbling at freckled skin. He sucked Dean’s cock into his mouth with no warning at all, pleased when Dean’s hips jerked. 

The hand in his hair tightened it’s grip as Dean let out a series of muttered curses. “Shit, Cas, I’m not gonna last long if you keep that up.”

“Pass me the lubricant,” Cas said. 

“Goddammit, Cas, just say lube.”

“I’ll say what I damn well please.”

Dean looked down at him with wide eyes. “Why is that hot?” he asked. “Fuck, I love bossy Cas.” He tossed the bottle down the bed. “Do you know how to do this?”

“Yes,” Cas narrowed his eyes as he stared up at Dean. “I have had sex before.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t remind me.” 

Cas opened the bottle and coated his fingers. “You have to relax. That’s very important.”

“I know,” Dean said, a sweet smile on his face. “I’m good and relaxed.”

Leaning down, Cas took Dean in his mouth again, his hand drifting down to find the furled skin of Dean’s hole. Gently tracing a finger around his entrance, Cas moved up and down on Dean’s cock, soaking up every noise Dean let slip from his lips. He slid his index finger into Dean’s body. 

“Oh god -”

“Please use something else.”

Dean laughed. “Shit, sorry. I guess that’s pretty awkward, huh?”

“Indeed. I’m not hurting you?”

“No. Feels good.”

“Alright.” Mouth on Dean, Cas slowly worked up to three fingers, occasionally dragging the tips over Dean’s prostate. When Dean was finally reduced to begging, Cas slid his own boxers off and settled between Dean’s legs. Green eyes were blown black, hooded, his plush bottom lip red and irritated from biting it. 

“Shit, Cas.”

He lifted Dean’s right leg and hooked it around his own waist, positioned himself, and slid inside. Simultaneous moans echoed off the cinderblock walls, and Dean wrapped his arms around Cas’s neck, pulling him down for a hot kiss. 

“You can move,” Dean said breathlessly. 

“Give me a minute. You are so -” Cas swallowed. “So hot, so tight. I need a moment.” Cas focused, trying to think of anything other than the beautiful man laid out before him. He tried not to think of how their bodies were joined, or how they seemed made for each other in that moment. “I’m going to come,” he whined. 

“Take a couple of deep breaths for me. Don’t move and think about something else. Ok? Don’t think about this. Close your eyes and breathe.” Dean rubbed a soothing hand down Cas’s back. “And if you do? It’s not the end of the world. We can always go again,” he winked. 

“You are not helping,” Cas growled. 

Dean laughed, the sound vibrating his entire body and sending shudders through Cas. 

“Oh, stop. Stop.”

Instead, Dean drove his hips upward, fucking himself on Cas’s cock. 

_ “C amayo calz!” _ Feeling like he was no longer in control of his own body, Cas pulled back and slammed into Dean so hard, he pushed him up the bed. 

“Fuck, Cas, fuck!” Dean cried out, holding on for dear life as Cas proceeded to fuck him so hard his head hit the headboard with every thrust. 

“ _ En samevelaji coredazodizoda, en congamphlgh, en mononusa, ol aziazor elasa, ol aziazor elasa! _ ” Cas pulled Dean upward until he was sitting in his lap, still driving into him ferociously. 

“Oh, oh, oh,” Dean panted. “What are you saying to me, what are you saying?”

“I love you. I love you, Dean. I love you.” He worked a hand between their bodies, jerking Dean hard and fast, because his orgasm was seconds away and Castiel was determined to take Dean over the edge with him. 

Dean had been reduced to nonsensical babbling as he clung to Cas. His muscles tensed and his entire body locked up as he came between them, come splashing over both their bellies. Unprepared for how much Dean would tighten as he orgasmed, Cas sunk his teeth into Dean’s shoulder and howled as he came, buried deep inside. 

In the aftermath, all they could do was cling to each other and breathe. 

“Holy shit, that was - that was -” 

“Yes,” Cas said. 

They met each other’s eyes and burst into giggles. Dean let his head drop to Cas’s shoulder. “I think you broke skin, but fuck, that was hot. Never been bit like that before.” He looked up again. “Staking a claim?”

Cas laid a hand over Dean’s arm where his handprint had once been. “I think I did that a long time ago.”

Dean offered him the sweetest smile. “Yeah, you did.” They fell quiet for a few more moments, and when Dean spoke up again, his voice was soft, tentative. “You know I want you to stay forever, right? I’ll help you find your grace, whatever you need. But I want you to stay. You’re it for me, Cas. Maybe you always have been. But every time you leave, it leaves a hole in me so big I can’t fill it. So I’m asking you. Hell, I’m  _ begging _ you. Please don’t leave. Stay?”

Cas titled Dean’s head up and stared into watery green eyes. “I am yours for as long as you’ll have me. Forever, I hope.”

Dean nodded. “Forever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grievous abuse of Enochian (I almost scrapped this but I couldn't bring myself to cut it.)  
> C amayo calz! - O Lord Above  
> En samevelaji coredazodizoda, en congamphlgh, en mononusa, ol aziazor elasa, ol aziazor elasa! - my righteous man, my soul, my heart, i love you, i love you!
> 
> (Is this an accurate translation? I dunno. I used one of those translater things and hoped for the best.)


	8. Epilogue - Hold On To Me As We Go

_ Sixteen Months Later _

Hannah and several other angels surrounded Metatron, many blades drawn against him.

“What will you do with him now?” Castiel asked. 

“What would you do?”

He thought about it for a moment, surrounded by his brothers and sisters. “I’m tired of killing. Put him in a cell and let him rot.”

Hannah nodded. “Far kinder than he deserves.” Her eyes fell on the man standing nearby, wearing a leather jacket. “And him? What do we do with him, Castiel?”

Gadreel - the former Ezekiel - met Cas’s eyes. He looked away a moment later, his expression clouded with shame. 

“We never would have found Metatron without his help.”

“Still, he allowed Lucifer -”

Gadreel flinched. 

“And he sat in Heaven’s prison for millennia. He’s served his time, Hannah. Show a little mercy.”

Hannah seemed to consider his words. Finally, she turned to Gadreel. “You’re free. Heaven will not pursue you. If you ever wish to return, we can discuss that.” Gadreel nodded as Hannah turned to Castiel. She smiled softly and touched his arm. “Good luck to you, Castiel.”

She and the others left, the curmudgeonly angel cussing up a storm as they dragged him off. 

“Thank you,” Gadreel murmured. He caught Sam’s eyes from across the room and looked away quickly. “It was more than I deserved.”

“Every deserves mercy. And you did save Sam's life. Go. Live a good life. Find some happiness,” Cas told him. 

Gadreel nodded before departing on silent feet. 

Castiel looked around the ruined library Metatron had used to hide his grace. Charlie and Sam sat off to the side, talking quietly as they looked over a few of the intact books. He thought they might be trying to give him some space. Across the room, Dean sat on the floor with his back against the wall, a look of unspeakable sadness on his handsome face. 

Crossing the room, Cas settled on the floor beside him. 

“So I guess it’s back to Heaven, huh?” Dean asked quietly. 

Holding up the necklace with the glowing cylinder that contained the remains of his grace, Castiel snorted. “Not until you can come with me, and hopefully that won’t be anytime soon.” He opened the chain and secured it around a wide-eyed Dean’s neck. “You can keep this safe for me until then.”

Dean touched the vial with reverent fingers. “I don’t understand.”

“Everything I need is here. I intend to grow old with you, Dean Winchester, and when the day comes that your body fails you and you depart this earthly plane for the heavenly one, I’ll reclaim my grace and walk into Heaven with you.”

Dean’s eyes filled with tears. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice small. 

Cas lifted Dean’s fingers to his lips.  “Absolutely.”

* * *

 

“Package for you, Cas,” Sam said, depositing a large box on the table. 

Cas smiled at the return address and  _ Castiel Winchester _ penned in Lydia’s careful handwriting. 

“Ooh, open it, babe,” Dean said, handing Cas one of his pocket knives. 

“You’re just hoping there’s baked goods.”

“Well, yeah,” Dean said with a silly grin. “It’s from Lydia! She always sends goodies!”

Cas carefully unpacked the box, setting the letter from Lydia aside. On top was a tin, which proved to be stuffed full of oatmeal raisin cookies. Dean snatched one and shoved it in his mouth, moaning around the taste. Another box was tied with a pretty bow and a tag with  _ For Dean _ on it. It held a pristine, carefully plastic wrapped pecan pie. 

“Holy shit. She sent me a pie,” Dean marveled, lifting Lydia’s creation from the box and examining it from every angle. Cas flipped the tag over, laughing at the note on the back. 

“Try to share,” he chuckled, showing it to Dean. 

There were a few more odds and ends in the box, included neatly labeled seeds and a few jars of Lydia’s homemade preserves. At the very bottom was a soft thing carefully wrapped in tissue with a note on top. 

_ Dear Dean and Castiel,  _

_ I’ve been working on this in my spare time since you left us last year and I hope you’ll put it to good use. _

_ Love,  _

_ Lydia _

Together, they carefully unwrapped the tissue. Dean let out a low “wow” when the item inside was revealed. 

It was a quilt, a large one, more than big enough to cover their shared bed. The background was black, and twenty rings in the bright colors of the rainbow had been carefully stitched, each ring intersecting with the ones closest. 

“It’s a wedding ring quilt,” Cas murmured. “How did she know? I hadn’t told her yet.” He looked down at the matching gold rings on his and Dean’s hands. 

“Lydia always seems to have sort of sixth sense about you. I dunno. Man, this is gorgeous. We’re gonna have to get new sheets that are worthy of this thing, because ours are crap.”

“Not black sheets,” Charlie interjected as she walked past. “They uh - show certain  _ stains _ ,” she giggled, grabbing the tin of cookies and darting off to the kitchen before Dean could formulate a snide remark. 

“I swear -”

“Shush. You love it when she out sasses you.” 

“Yeah, I do. I’m gonna get me some of this pie while you read your letter, ok?”

“Mmhmm,” Cas hummed, carefully refolding the quilt and taking a seat. 

_ My Leiwer Herz,  _

_ So you can mail a pie after all! I hope Dean is kind enough to share. _

_ I do hope this finds you well. All is well here, despite a bit of scare Jacob gave us last week. Thought he was having a heart attack, turns out we just need to make a few dietary changes. Still, the night spent in the Englischer ER was something I would have rather done without.  _

_ How are your hives faring? Did they come through the winter safely? Jacob and I removed the tar paper from ours last week and the bees seemed pleased to have the increased freedom. It’s still a bit chilly up here, so they aren’t quite as active yet, but spring is blooming and they have plenty to pollinate.  _

_ Please send along some of the honey your bees make this year. I’d rather enjoy tasting honey from Kansas. Better yet, bring some when you visit in June. I hope Sam joins you. I look forward to meeting him, and of course, seeing Dean and Charlie again.  _

_ About the quilt - I had a strange dream not long after you left. I saw you and Dean, holding hands as you slipped rings on each other’s fingers. I’m not sure I believe in prophetic dreams, but the love you and Dean share is clear to anyone who looks at you, so I went ahead and started the quilt. I made it alone, which is unusual for us Amish, but it’s quite unusual the way Jacob and I feel about you (and Dean) and I wasn’t sure my friends and family would understand. I often think Jacob and I are simply unusual in general.  _

_ You’re a son to us, Castiel. I hope you understand what I mean. I had many issues with my body when I was young, and sadly, I was never able to bear children. Something about you - when you came to us, I would swear the Lord shined a light on my heart and told me to watch over you. Jacob has confessed that he too, has never heard the Lord’s voice as clearly as he did the day he found you on Owen’s rig. You were meant to come to us. You are a special man to us, our dear boy, and we will always love you.  _

_ I’m afraid this grew far more long winded than I ever intended, so I’ll sign off now.  _

_ All of our love, and until we meet again in the summer.  _

_ Lydia _

Cas folded the letter carefully and ran a hand over the quilt, blinking tears from his eyes. He could hear Sam, Dean, and Charlie laughing merrily in the kitchen. 

He sighed happily, smiling at nothing. “Thank you, Father,” he whispered to the empty room. He packed everything back in the box and joined the others in the kitchen. 

* * *

 

Dean snored beside him, wrapped in the new quilt as Castiel sat up in their bed, writing his response to Lydia. 

_ Dear Lydia,  _

_ Thank you for the generous package, especially the seeds. I’m excited to see how the lavender fares, as there are a couple of lavender farms on the prairie out here. Seems like lavender might do well for me. Dean and I have started a small orchard near the hives with six Mcintosh apple trees and six Bartlett Pear trees. They’ve just barely opened their flowers and my bees seem incredibly enthusiastic about the new offerings. It should make for some delicious honey. If the trees do well, we’ll consider adding some cherry trees next spring. I doubled the size of the garden this year. As I’m sure I’ve mentioned before, Dean is a very good cook and we’re teaching ourselves canning. We’re doubling our crops in order to have things to can. Sam loves vegetables of all sorts, so he’s excited about the new things we’re trying. Tomorrow morning, I’ll start the indoor sprout trays for the heirloom tomato seeds you sent me.  _

_ I’m glad Jacob isn’t seriously ill. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to comfort you while you waited at the ER. I hope you weren’t alone and at least one of your family members were present. I admit, I hate the idea of you waiting to hear something all by yourself. Tell Jacob to not eat quite so much of the hot pepper chow chow. I’m sure that was part of the problem.  _

_ Speaking of food, your pie was very well received; and while Dean did eat at least half of the pie himself, Charlie, Sam, and I managed to each get a small slice. The cookies were enjoyed by all, and Sam especially loved your raspberry preserves. And I will be sure to bring you some of our first run of honey when we come to visit.  _

_ Yes, Sam is coming with us. He’s excited to meet you, and we’ll have Charlie along as well. _

_ You remember me telling you about our friend Kevin? He’s not living with us anymore. Marv, the man who was stalking him, was finally arrested, and he’s since moved back home with his mother, Linda. He’s taking classes again. We’re happy for him, although we miss him quite a bit.  _

_ I was going to tell you in this letter anyway, but Dean and I got married last week. It was just a small ceremony, presided over by the justice of the peace and attended only by Charlie and Sam. We exchanged rings and went out for burgers afterwards which might seem strange, but it’s very us. Imagine mine and Dean’s surprise when we opened the package to find a wedding ring quilt inside. Lydia, it’s beautiful, without any flaws. Dean and I lay here for some time this evening, inspecting every careful stitch. There is so much love in that quilt and it brightens our room considerably. _

_ What you said about me being your son touched my heart. I knew you cared for me, but I had no idea it ran that deeply. I’m honored to be thought of as your son, and proud to think of you as my parents. A good friend of mine and Dean’s, dead these many years, once said that family doesn't end in blood. He was right. My found family has always shown me more love and caring than my brothers and sisters, or even my father.  _

_ I’m sorry, I’m afraid I’ve gotten quite long winded (something you complained about in your letter as well) and I confess to being rather emotional as I write this letter. Dean is lying beside me, sound asleep under the quilt. He’s snoring just a bit. I’m so happy. I sometimes think about how if you and Jacob hadn’t given this lost bee a hive to land in, Dean would still be looking for me. Maybe he would have given up by now.  _

_ I will never be able to thank you for everything you and Jacob have done for me.  _

_ Until we meet again.  _

_ All of my love,  _

_ Castiel _

Dean grunted softly in his sleep as he rolled over and burrowed into Castiel’s side. Smiling, Cas folded the letter and slipped it inside of the envelope. He set it on the nightstand and switched off the light, settling down in the bed beside Dean. The glow of Cas’s grace around Dean’s neck illuminated the room with a soft light. 

“Love you,” Dean murmured, slipping his arm around Cas’s waist as he laid his head on his shoulder. 

“I love you, too,” Cas whispered, kissing his forehead. 

They slept, safe and peaceful, wrapped in love and their new quilt, secure in each other and their home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and thank you to the wonderful mods. I really enjoyed this challenge!!
> 
> Cas and Dean's quilt looks something like this: [The Quilt](https://www.google.com/url?q=https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q%3Dtbn:ANd9GcSbM1OZ1adJvAkybO-r0kO5rV9gqO4UCVvLB9is-t57vm_CO6mF&sa=D&ust=1488320075737000&usg=AFQjCNF-o4bVVIQHwTrX7ImYcPxkDKuqrQ)
> 
> And a recipe for Hot Pepper Chow Chow can be found here: [Chow Chow Recipe](https://www.w3schools.com/html/)
> 
> (I am aware I misspelled "Bieler" in a few places. I'll catch that over the next few days and fix it.)


End file.
